Witchunters of London
by Rusty Weasley
Summary: A date with a mysterious woman leads Chief Inspector Dursley to discover a string of crimes involving a secret society called Witchunters, rich Muggle men looking to have a beautiful witch of their own. He works with his cousin Harry, an Auror, to determine who the killer is and exactly who is in danger.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I claim no ownership of this story. It is important to note here that we are not supposed to know the name of this mysterious woman...for a reason. That is why I never refer to her by name. There is also a lot we still have to learn about this older, and wiser Dudley. **

As the door swung open, he was taken aback by the size of the foyer. The ceiling was at least three stories above them, blue with moons and stars in unusual patterns. The staircase wound up before him and he realized that this wasn't her flat, she had the whole building. With a posh address like this, that meant she had some serious money.

The walls around the stairs were covered with unusual paintings, and Dudley was sure that the light was playing tricks on him when he imagined that an ancient portrait of a man in a scratched his nose. The stairs themselves were also a work of art. They were carved stone, the balusters designed to fit in a gothic cathedral. They were strange, out of place in a remodeled pre-war building in London. They ascended the stairs, and it deposited them into a beautiful room that Dudley surmised was designed for entertaining. It seemed to take up the whole floor as he scanned it for other signs of life, and found no one else around. There were several couches scattered throughout the space, all different shapes and sizes, but covered with the same emerald fabric. One wall was covered with an elaborate tapestry and a long, fully stocked bar covered another. The last wall that wasn't covered with floor-to-ceiling windows had even more of the same type of portraits that he noticed on the stairs. There were a few coffee tables, but no sign of a dining area or kitchen; and he thought that those must have been on a different floor.

"This is quite a palace you have here, your Ladyship," Dudley said as he followed her towards the bar.

She casually dropped her wrap on a black leather wingback chair as she walked behind the bar. "It sounds like you're teasing me, Big D," she said with a smile. "I like that. I was worried that you were going to be uptight."

"You know, you don't have to keep calling me Big D," Dudley said as he placed his hands on the bar, feeling the smooth surface. It seemed to be one solid slab of black marble. "You could call me Dudley, or..."

"Or Chief Inspector? Too stuffy, Big D. Would you like another scotch? I have a great bottle of Glensomething back here," she said, turning around and bending over to look in a cabinet.

Dudley took in the long legs that stretched from impossibly high stilettos to the hem of her very low-cut little black dress. He couldn't believe how well this night was going. "I guess I could have one more, but I've got my limit."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, surely you don't have a crime to investigate? Don't Chief Inspectors get a day off?" she questioned, turning around and showing him her dazzling smile again.

Dudley shook his head in answer to her question, but also in disbelief that a beautiful, rich woman would be coming on to him. "Actually, murder and mayhem are not so popular this week, so I do have the day off, but I don't want to get drunk on our first date."

"Mmm, first date, I like the sound of that," she said, walking around the bar and handing him a drink. "Sounds like there might be more to come," she finished, stroking his arm like she had been doing throughout the evening. "I say, Big D, that name certainly fits you. I have never met a man as big and muscular as you are. Did you lift weights your whole life?" she asked as she let her hands wander to his chest, feeling his pectorals and then sliding her fingertips lower down to feel his abs.

"Not my whole life," Dudley sputtered as her hand graced the top of his belt before pulling away. "I've always been big, but the Army forced me to turn it into muscle."

"You are a very impressive specimen, Big D," she teased, placing her empty glass on the bar. "Would you like a tour of the house?" she asked with a coy smile.

"Absolutely," Dudley answered as he drained his glass and put it on the bar. He turned to follow her and didn't notice the unusual sparkle of light as fine grains of residue in the bottom of the glass faded from existence as they made contact with the air.

"...and this is my boudoir," she said as she opened the door to the last room on the tour.

"Fantastic," Dudley responded, not being able to generate a coherent sentence to describe the majesty of the room. Green silk framed the ornate four-poster bed in the center of the room. The posts seemed to be carved into the shape of snakes. Something about this room seemed oddly familiar to him, like it was from a different time, or a different place. He started examining her personal items as she toured him around, and didn't notice anything stranger here than in the rest of the house. Fortunately, there were no more portraits. This seemed to be the only room without them. It was then that he noticed the coins in a dish on her dresser. They weren't Pound coins or Euros, they were irregular-shaped gold coins. Recognition swept over him as her lips pressed against his.

He forgot the question he was about to ask, and wrapped her small frame in his arms. The kiss became more passionate, and she directed him toward the bed as she caressed his chest, this time slipping her hands under his shirt to feel his skin.

"Whoa, this is all moving fast," Dudley said, trying to act cool, but now acutely aware of alarm bells going off inside his groggy skull. He had a sixth sense for knowing when something was going wrong, a sense that had saved his life in Iraq more times than he could count, and now it was telling him to get out of there. Quick.

"Oh relax, Big D," she laughed as she pushed him down onto the bed. "There, isn't that more comfortable?"

Dudley groggily looked up, expecting to see a mirror underneath the canopy, but instead he saw an unusual crest. It was a serpent on an emerald shield. "Slytherin," he whispered.

"Did you say something, hon?" she said, turning around to face him. She casually held a thin wooden stick in her right hand and looked at him with a questioning smile.

It all sunk in to Dudley in an instant, and his adrenaline went into full production. This woman was some kind of Slytherin witch from Hogwarts, and she had drugged him. He hadn't faced anyone with a wand in years, and he knew instinctively that he had to disarm her and get the hell out of there while he still could.

His size fourteen loafer shot out and broke several of her fingers as it knocked the wand from her grip. Her scream seemed very far away as he rose from the bed. He moved numbly to the door, picking up speed, as he heard her scream out again.

"Are you serious? You just broke my fucking hand, you giant Muggle!"

He half ran, half fell down the stairs, willing his legs to keep him moving as he went toward the main floor, and then down to the front door. Suddenly, the wall next to him erupted with an explosion that sent the occupants of the paintings running and screaming. He knew she was firing some sort of spell, and he ducked under the next landing as he moved as fast as he could to get out of her way.

"I was going to make it painless, but now I am really going to fuck you up!" she screamed in a shrill voice as she ran down the stairs, much faster than he, now that she had taken off her heels. "I think I'll let you watch yourself bleed to death slowly before I rip out your heart."

He was almost to the last step when he felt it; a pain like he had never felt before. It felt like every blood vessel in his body was about to burst at the same time and hot needles were being forced into every millimeter of skin. He collapsed on the floor in front of the door, unable to do anything other than hurt.

"The Cruciatus Curse is one of my favorites," she said with an evil smile as she held her wand at attention with her left hand. "No matter how big you are, it will still bring you down."

She then turned her attention to her broken right hand and focused her wand upon it as Dudley heard the bones snap back in place. The curse had been lifted from him as she repaired her hand, and he took the time to play dead and assess the situation. She had drugged him with something, so there was no way he could move fast enough to beat her next curse, so he had to catch her off guard. She might be some kind of evil, Muggle-hating witch, but she was no fighter. The first rule was never to underestimate your opponent, and she had already underestimated the amount of drug needed to knock him out, and she had no idea that he was lying on the floor fully conscious.

"You Muggle men are all the same," she started as she flexed her right hand. "You think that every woman is charmed by your stupidity and all we want from you is…"

She never finished her sentence. As she moved her wand from her left to her right hand, Dudley took advantage of her anti-Muggle diatribe and used a leg sweep to knock her off her feet. She hit her head on the marble floor, hard. She was stunned, and Dudley groped for the door handle and made it outside to the deserted street in front of Number Ten, Bloomsbury Square. The cool night air helped him shake off a little of the grogginess, and he noticed several twenty-somethings coming around the corner, much to his relief. He knew that there was no way that she would perform any magic in front of all these Muggles, and he was safe. He fumbled for his mobile, and then promptly fell face first to the ground in front of the group of young people. If any one of them had chanced to look in the window of Number Ten, they might have seen an attractive, although disheveled woman pointing a stick at the fallen stranger and mouthing the word, _Obliviate._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't claim ownership of this content

"Chief Inspector?" Sergeant Ross inquired as he peered inside the open door of Dudley's office. "I think we have something that you should take a look at."

Dudley looked up from pretending to read some paperwork, and through his splitting headache said, "What is it?"

"Sir, are you feeling all right? If you don't mind me saying so…you look terrible."

"Ross, how long have we known each other? Ten years?"

"More like eleven, sir."

"In all that time, I've never called in sick. I am usually healthy as a horse, but last night, I blacked out and woke up on the sidewalk. I have no idea how I got there, and my head is still killing me." Dudley took another swig from his cup labeled, '# 1 Dad'. "The last thing I remember is leaving work on Friday, and the next thing I know, some kids are helping me to my feet just off Great Russell Street."

Ross looked at his superior with some amount of sympathy, but it was hard to feel really sorry for a man that you hardly knew at all. Although they had worked together for a long time, Ross still had no idea about what Dursley _did_. He was a decorated Chief Inspector that had no one under him, and no case records. It was rumored that he really reported to the PM directly, but no one could confirm. It was not uncommon to hear someone in the office with him, although no one ever saw people come or go. Most of the time Dursley was either behind locked doors or out of the office. Ross himself only really got requests for one case file or another, and they always had the same record on top: Unsolved. Ross hesitated for a moment before venturing into uncharted territory, "Sir, were you drinking?'

"I wish that was the answer," Dudley said, putting down his mug and rubbing his eyes. I don't remember anything past leaving the office. I feel terrible, but not like a hangover. I'll figure something out, or go see a doctor." He dismissed the conversation with a wave of his right hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other, saying, "What did you come to see me about?"

"Murder," the Sergeant said, "nasty work."

(Break)

The video monitor showed two individuals standing on a deserted train platform at night. One was a middle-aged man, dressed in a dark coat, with his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill. From the left of the screen, another person was visible, though slightly in the shadow of a support post so the face was obscured. The second person moved towards the first and stopped a few meters away. The first man turned quickly, and it looked like the two exchanged some words, before the second person made a slight hand motion and the first man fell to the ground. The second person turned and walked away, evidently not knowing the position of the camera because her face became visible just for a moment.

"Get me a hard copy of that face," Dudley asked the technician running the monitor in the Operations Viewing Room.

"Already done, sir," the tech responded as he handed over an enhanced printout of the woman and an accompanying folder. "Here's the victim's information. His name is John Harmon, of Knightsbridge. He was an investment banker."

"What's troubling about this is that the man died from multiple knife wounds, but that woman never got anywhere near him," Sergeant Ross explained.

"Yep," Dudley answered casually as he looked at the photo.

"We figured that this was one that you should know about," the sergeant continued.

"Thanks, I'll take it from here."

"What should we do with the footage, sir?" the tech asked.

"Destroy it as usual," Dudley said over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Dudley walked up the flights of stairs to his office, and stared at the image in his hand. He felt like the woman was someone he had seen before, but she haunted him, just out of reach. He was oblivious to the stares of his fellow inspectors as he made his way up to his office, the other employees giving him a wide berth as they passed. No one knew what Chief Inspector Dursley actually did, but they knew it was something important and strange.

Dursley had joined the force fifteen years ago, after the typical stint in the British Army, and risen quickly and quietly in the ranks. He was known as a good inspector, with good attention to detail and even better luck. There were many times that he should have been hurt or killed, but he famously got out of the way at the last minute. This earned him the nickname of 'Lucky' Dursley, a name that no one would dare call him to his face. When he was given the Chief Inspector job upon the retirement of Wallace Oakby, his peers just chalked it up to luck again, because they didn't know the real reason.

"What's the case?" Dudley heard after he entered his office and locked the door.

"Murder," Dudley responded not looking up from the picture in his hand as he sat down behind the desk. "Is he free?"

"Let me check," the portrait over the fireplace answered as its occupant, Sir Charles Rowan, one of the founders of the Metropolitan Police, and a Squib, hurried out of frame.

Dudley put the image into the folder and looked at the victim's information. He had no known enemies, was unmarried, and lived a very extravagant lifestyle due to his enormous income. His sister, when interviewed, admitted that he did have 'a strange taste in women', so the investigating officer had put a note in the file that it may have been a crime of passion, but based on the markings on the body and the surveillance footage, the actual cause of death was listed as unknown. On the last page, an ornate 'M' was stamped to indicate Dudley's one-man department, Department M. Over the years, people had speculated what the M stood for, but only the current holder of the office knew the real answer, Ministry of Magic.

"He's on his way," Sir Charles spoke up breathlessly as he reentered his frame.

The ancient fireplace roared to life with green flames and a man stepped through, unharmed. Dudley stood and casually walked over to greet the man.

"Good morning, Harry," Dudley said and extended his hand.

"Dudley," Harry responded warmly as he returned the greeting. "Sir Charles said there was a murder."

"A man was sliced to death on the Circle Line platform on Saturday. Surveillance footage captured an image of his attacker, but she never got close enough to touch him. So they sent it to me," Dudley said as he rubbed his head, the 4 painkillers he took earlier finally starting to work.

"Working with the Ministry is a real pleasure isn't it?" Harry asked.

Dudley nodded his head in response, and handed Harry the photo of the killer. "This is her," he said as he sat back down behind his desk.

Harry took a look at the woman in the photo. She was wearing a hooded cloak, but the camera still captured her face enough to see her features. Harry didn't recognize her, which surprised him. A witch approximately his same age should be someone he knew, but he had never seen this woman before. "Did the victim have anything unusual in his possession?"

Dudley leafed through the file, "I haven't looked in here yet, let me see. Money, credit cards, hold on…it says a condom, and a calling card."

"A calling card?" Harry asked.

"You know a card, with someone's name and a phone number. So you can call them," Dudley answered, and rubbed his eyes again.

"Hey Big D, are you alright? You look terrible," Harry asked.

"What did you say?" Dudley looked up anxiously at Harry.

"Are you alright?"

"No, the Big D part. God, that reminds me of something," Dudley said as he looked past Harry.

"Yeah, they used to call you that in school."

"No, something else," Dudley closed his eyes and tried to remember. "Ah, it's right there! Why can't I remember?"

"Dudley, what are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Something happened to me Friday night. I left work as usual, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up on the sidewalk near Bloomsbury Square. I have no memory of anything, really, but there are some things that trigger little pieces. Like that picture," he said, pointing at the paper Harry was holding, "and you calling me Big D. I just can't remember."

"When you woke up," Harry started, "did you have a massive headache?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"It is a common symptom of a Memory Charm. I think someone performed one on you. When I get back to the Ministry, I'll check and see if anyone registered some activity around Bloomsbury Square on Friday night. That is kind of a dead zone for magical activity, so that should be pretty easy. I'll let you know what I find," Harry said reassuringly. "How's Amanda doing?"

Dudley smiled slightly as he thought of his daughter. "She's having a great time, truly. I've never seen her happier, and her letters talk about how great it is to have a famous cousin Harry, and she's learning loads about you in her history class."

"Hogwarts is a great school, and she will get a lot out of it, I promise." Harry became serious when he put his hand on Dudley's shoulder and said, "I know it's tough for you, raising Amanda on your own, but you're doing the right thing, believe me."

"I know. Tell your daughter thanks for looking out for her younger cousin. Amanda appreciates all the help Lily is giving her. It is tough for a kid if you don't know anything about the magical world."

"Believe me, I know," Harry laughed as he patted his much larger cousin's shoulder and turned back toward the fireplace. "Call me if you find out anything else about this case," he said, pointing his wand at the fireplace and setting it alight. He then took a little Floo powder out of a small canister on the mantel and threw it in the fireplace, and said, "Ministry of Magic." He then stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

Dudley returned to his desk and sat down. He closed the file, and lifted up the old desk blotter that separated the different stacks of paper from actual, usable desk space, and pulled out an opened envelope. It was addressed to him, in his daughter's hand, and he pulled out the letter from inside. With some amount of dread, he wrote on his desk calendar, on the second weekend of next month:

_Parents Weekend, school._

He slipped the letter into his jacket pocket and then picked up the case file again. From it, a card slipped out. Dudley picked it up, and read the unfamiliar name aloud, "Well, Pansy Parkinson, what secrets are you hiding?" He then flipped open his laptop and logged into the Met's database. He typed in the name, Pansy Parkinson, and waited for the results. The search took longer than usual to bring back any results, and when it did, they were very interesting. Instead of the usual identity cards or passport numbers, there was a simple notation in the record: Pansy Parkinson, Camborne, Cornwall. Short entries like these indicated to Dudley that Pansy's records were held in the Ministry, because she was part of the wizarding community. What he didn't expect to see was her name attached to two unrelated case records. Both were rich men who died from unknown causes last week, and each had Pansy's card in their possession. It would have been a matter of time before the investigators put these unrelated cases together and sent them his way. As he saw it, he saved everyone some trouble, found the obvious black widow, and all that was left was to call Harry to bring her in.

He took out his cell phone and called Harry. Harry answered on the first ring, and Dudley smiled because Harry always answered on the first ring, since the sound of a phone tended to freak out the other wizards.

"Harry I have a name I need to look up, Pansy Parkinson. She's our perp. It was her calling card on this victim, and two other dead men had her card on them."

"No need to look her up, I know her. She's not the woman in the picture."

Dudley ran his hands through his hair as the wind went out of his sails. "Are you serious?" he asked. "I was going to wrap all of this up today."

"Sorry Big D," Harry laughed, "but I have some interesting info on that…incident you told me about."

"What is it?"

"Well there was a Memory Charm used in front of Muggles Friday night, near Bloomsbury square, so that explains your headache. What is weird is that we can't trace who cast the Charm because the magical signature is unknown. What is weirder still is that the same magical signature was found on that train platform the night your victim was killed," Harry finished. "I think that the same person that erased your memory killed this man."

"Well let's bring this Pansy in for questioning, she's got to know something," Dudley said, now frustrated that it wasn't an open and shut case

"I agree," Harry said. "I'll call you when I get her."

Dudley heard the click on the other end of the line, signaling Harry's desire to get off the phone as soon as possible, most likely because the other wizards in his office were staring at him. He returned his phone to his inside jacket pocket, closed his laptop, and headed out of his office for more coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I claim no ownership of any of these characters, but Pansy is one of my favorites for some reason. Also, I read that there is a lot of discussion on which London pub is the oldest…so I just picked one.

Dudley had no idea what to expect about the woman they were about to interrogate. Harry had called him an hour ago, and it had taken all that time to get into the Ministry through all of their convoluted entrances and down to the Department of Magical Law enforcement. With a name like Pansy, he conjured a visual image of a short, plump woman in her early 40's, probably dressed in pink, with a face like a toad. He was completely unprepared for the woman that walked in the room.

A frowning female Auror opened the door to the interrogation room, and glared as Pansy entered. It was obvious why the woman was unhappy, Pansy was simply stunning, and made the Auror, and possibly anyone else, pale in comparison. Her sleek, black hair was cut short, and it was accentuated by two large, obviously real, diamond earrings. A single diamond drop necklace brought Dudley's attention to her décolletage, and then he nervously focused on her face, high cheekbones, bright eyes, and perfect teeth. She flashed Harry a dazzling smile as he rose stiffly to greet her.

"Hello Harry, how nice to see you again," she purred as Harry took her hand.

Dudley knew that there was no love lost between these two, Harry had given him the short version of their history, and he noticed how distant Harry seemed, although Pansy was nothing short of charming. He looked at her little black dress curiously, thinking that the short hem, the high heels, and long legs reminded him of something, when she shook him out of his thoughts.

"And who might you be?" Pansy asked as she turned to Dudley.

He rose to his full height, which meant he towered over the two of them and walked towards Pansy. "I'm Chief Inspector Dursley, of the Metropolitan Police," he said very officially and stuck out his hand. "We'd like to ask you some questions tonight, if you don't mind."

"Heavens, you are a tall drink of water, Chief Inspector," she said, flashing her fantastic smile in his direction.

Dudley kept a stoic expression, but he definitely felt his stomach flip-flop. This woman was just beautiful, and he was having a difficult time not smiling back at her. _Did I just imagine that when I thought that, she smiled even more?_

"Pansy, Dudley, and I are investigating a series of murders, and they all seem connected to you," Harry said as he pulled out a chair for Pansy.

"Connected to me?" Pansy asked. She paused, and then took the seat.

Dudley watched the exchange with interest. Harry was trying to control himself, and that suited his position of 'bad cop', leaving Dudley the sympathetic role. He thought that Pansy was sincere in her concern, and knew nothing about these murders. In short, she was innocent.

"Three men have died in the past two weeks and they all had your calling card in their possession. The first was John Rokesmith, a barrister from Kensington. Next, Albert Hexam, a software mogul from Surrey, and finally, John Harmon from Knightsbridge," Harry paused and looked up from his file to judge Pansy's expression. "Any of these names ring a bell?"

Dudley had been watching Pansy closely, and as Harry read out the names of the dead men, Pansy brought her hand over her mouth and her eyes started to water. She was becoming genuinely distraught, and Dudley fought the urge to comfort her.

"Pansy, I need some answers!" Harry shouted, shaking Pansy and causing her to start sobbing.

This time Dudley stood and walker around the table to put himself between Harry and Pansy. He offered her his handkerchief that was engraved with V.D.; it had belonged to his late father. As Pansy took it, he gave Harry a look that told him he had gone too far, and Harry responded by walking across the room and running his hands through his hair as he was prone to do when he became frustrated.

"Listen, Ms. Parkinson, Harry and I aren't here to upset you, we are just looking for the killer of these three men, and you are the only common connection we have to go on. What can you tell us about them? Did they know each other?" Dudley pulled out a chair and sat down as she pulled herself together. "How long did you know them?"

Pansy looked into Dudley's eyes, "I did know them. We met for dinner and drinks twice, each one of them. That was all, really. I am pretty sure that they didn't know each other, but they were all Witchunters."

"What's a Witchunter?" Dudley asked.

Pansy looked towards Harry and said, "Well, you tell him, he's your partner."

Harry, still angry but cooling off, responded, "He's not my partner, he's my cousin, and I have no idea what you're going on about. Witchunters?"

Pansy didn't smile as she looked back to Dudley, "Harry Potter's cousin. I've heard about you, but you're nothing like I expected. You and your family helped make Harry into what he is today, didn't you? I guess we all owe you a debt of gratitude, seeing how he saved us and all."

Dudley was surprised at how much bad blood went on between Harry and Pansy. "Listen, would you just tell us about Witchunters? It's late and I'm sure you're as anxious to leave here as I am," he said, trying to be diplomatic and diffuse the situation. They needed answers, not an argument.

"A Witchunter, for your information," Pansy started, "is a Muggle man that wants a witch of his very own. He knows about the wizarding world through a relative or some other 'approved' connection, and tries to meet a witch. Imagine the thrill of having a woman that can perform charms, spells, and hexes for you," Pansy said as she watched Dudley wrinkle his brow in confusion.

"Why would a witch agree to that?" Dudley asked.

Pansy flashed a smug smile, "Money, darling. It's one of the things we can't conjure up. These men are rich, very rich, and they know how to treat a woman."

"So you're a prostitute now? You sleep with rich guys; do some parlor tricks, and then move on to the next one?" Harry ventured as he leaned over the table in a typical interrogative posture.

Pansy slapped him, hard. "You take that back, Harry Potter!" she shouted. "I do no such thing!" Pansy stood up and walked to the other side of the room, leaving Harry to rub his cheek, embarrassed that he had crossed a line. "My family lost everything after the war. There were a lot of families that were devastated, and it is hard building back hundreds of years of one's family fortune that were taken away in an instant. Sure, we backed the wrong side, but is that reason enough to take everything we ever had? I used to live in a manor with my own house-elves. Now my family lives in Ottery St. Catchpole, and I live in a 'charming' little flat in Lisson Grove."

Harry looked earnest when he said, "I'm sorry."

"It's not all your fault," Pansy said taking a deep breath and calming herself. "But I will not have you looking down on me."

"I would never do that, Pansy. I crossed a line, and I'm sorry. We are just here to find a killer."

"Have you ever seen this woman before?" Dudley asked, holding the folder and giving Pansy the picture that he had given Harry earlier that day. The woman still haunted him, but he was no closer to remembering anything about her.

Pansy took the picture from Dudley and looked at it closely. "Maybe, I don't know. It's not like we have weekly prostitute meetings or anything," she said glaring at Harry.

Dudley moved so that he blocked her line of sight with Harry, "Does she look familiar at all?"

"Maybe I have seen her at the club," Pansy said. "I'm not sure. She's not anyone I know."

"What club?" Dudley asked, hoping that Harry would continue to keep his mouth shut.

"The Horn. It is the oldest pub in London," Pansy said matter-of-factly.

"It can't be, I've never heard of it. The oldest pub in London is 'Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese' on Fleet Street," Dudley said confidently.

"Darling, you wouldn't have heard of it," Pansy said, handing Dudley back his handkerchief and the image. "It's a wizarding spot. Go to your 'Olde Cheshire Cheese' and look to the left. I'm a Secret Keeper, so now you'll be able to find the old wooden door with the words 'Fleet Market' on it. Once you pass through, you won't miss it."

"I'll have to check it out," Dudley said pleasantly.

"Are we done here?" Pansy asked, cooling down a little.

"Here," Dudley said, offering Pansy his card, "just in case you think of anything. My mobile is always on."

Pansy looked up into Dudley's eyes and slipped the card into the neckline of her dress, and placed it inside of her bra. His eyes never left hers, and she smiled.

"They took my purse when they brought me in," Pansy said alluringly.

"I'm sure it is very safe," Dudley answered. "Please call me if you need anything."

"Thank you," Pansy said, and she turned to leave. "Potter," was all she had to say to Harry before she walked out the door.

When they were alone, Dudley sat down in the chair she had vacated. "Wow, you didn't mention she was such a looker."

"She didn't use to look like that," Harry responded, "but she's still kind of a bitch."

"Hey, you asked for it. I guess some people don't think you are all that great," Dudley said smiling. "Fancy going to a nightclub now?"

"Sure. Let me go home first and I'll meet you there. About eleven?"

"Eleven at night? I can't stay up that late." Dudley said. He usually woke about five to work out, and late nights weren't on his schedule.

"Dudley, no one goes out before eleven. Besides, I've heard of this place, it is definitely an afterhours club. Go get something fancy on, and meet me on Fleet Street at eleven." Harry smiled as he threw some Floo Powder in the fireplace for Dudley. "Wear black," he said, laughing as he called out, "Chief Inspector Dursley's office!" and watched Dudley stoop and enter the green flames.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I don't own any of this content.

Dudley arrived on Fleet Street first, and curiously approached Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. He'd been here years ago, and remembered reading that it claimed to be the oldest pub in England. When Pansy insisted that there was another, older club underground, he was intrigued. When he was home, picking out a black shirt and jeans, he looked online to see what he could find out about the history of Fleet Street. There was an underground river, and old market and even a closed off train station. In 1538, there was a pub here called The Horn. Dudley thought that the way these wizarding people captured the antique world, made it usable, and then hid it from everyone else was certainly amazing. Sure enough, just to the side of the tourist-littered front of the pub was an ancient, weathered, door marked, _Fleet Market_. Dudley stood back and shook his head as he watched regular people walk by the unusual door without giving it a second thought, because they couldn't see it at all.

"Looking sharp Big D," Harry said as he checked out his cousin's clothes. A black jacket, black shirt, and dark jeans almost made him look like a cool giant. He turned and watched a wizard enter the old doorway, trying to dress like a Muggle in a striped jacket and plaid pants, and thought that it was going to be awfully hard for Dudley to blend in.

Once they navigated the winding staircase to the main level, Harry and Dudley were faced with an iron door flanked by two statues of coiled serpents.

"What the hell is this?" Dudley asked. There was no door handle anywhere.

"They are guarding the door. We need a password or something," Harry answered. "Did Pansy tell you what it was?"

"Nope. Can't you speak to them in snake?"

"It's called Parseltongue, and no, I lost that ability when Voldemort died. I don't think that's it though, it has to be something that anyone that comes here would say."

"Fleet Market," Dudley said, remembering the name on the doorway. Nothing stirred.

"_Alohomora_," Harry tried, but the snakes remained motionless.

Dudley thought for a moment. It needed to be something that anyone that came here could say, and this club was for rich Muggles to meet witches and wizards. "Witchunter," Dudley guessed.

The two snakes uncoiled from their bases, and as they unwound, the door creaked open, revealing flashing, colored lights and thumping music within. Even though it was a Monday night, the place was rocking.

Dudley and Harry entered what looked like an old underground tube station; converted to look like one of the coolest bars they had ever seen. Go-go dancers performed on magically levitated platforms above the crowd. Torches all around the open floor plan gave off just the right amount of flattering light, and there was a giant bar all along one side of the space, with beautiful witches conjuring up drinks for the customers. In the back were tables and curtained off alcoves for what Dudley thought would be discreet meeting places, and in the center of that wall, a slightly raised platform with a very special table.

Obviously, this was where the boss sat, and Harry and Dudley simultaneously decided to make their way through the crowd to talk to him. There were women crowded around the table and lots of drinks being poured, so there was no way to see any of the people at the table. The crowd was so thick, and filled with swirling dancers of every type, that it took them a long time to cross the floor. Once they arrived at the table, with its emerald-green tablecloths and black leather chairs, Harry realized that there was trouble ahead.

"Well, look at this! My old school chum, Harry Potter has finally decided to grace our little establishment."

The sea of women parted and revealed the speaker in all his glory. A woman on each arm, a shock of platinum-white hair and more jewelry than any sensible man should wear. The men seated at the table looked like old mafia gangsters to Dudley, and although he did not know this man, he also knew that trouble wasn't far away. He sized up his opponents as Harry spoke.

"Hello Malfoy, I didn't know you were a club owner," Harry said, placing one hand in his pocket where he kept his wand.

"I guess your Christmas present came early, then didn't it Potter?" Draco answered with a sneer. "Don't worry about your wand, Mr. Auror; they'll be no trouble here unless you start it. If you do pull it on me, perhaps you'll enjoy my breaking your nose again." The patrons at the table snickered at Draco's inside joke.

"Malfoy I need you to answer some questions. About a murder."

"We all know who killed your parents Harry, aren't you over that yet?" Draco said as the whole table erupted in cruel laughter.

"This guy is a real asshole," Dudley said to Harry.

"What did you say?" Draco asked, standing up from the table.

"Did I stutter? I said you are an asshole," Dudley responded, making sure to pull himself up to his full height as he took a step towards the table.

A few of the men seated at the table stood, but Draco waved them off. "I can handle this big Muggle by myself. He wouldn't try anything here, a crowded bar, full of wizards and witches that could immobilize and torture him a hundred different ways. He's too scared." Draco walked up to Dudley and tried to stare him down. Once he realized how much taller Dudley was, he backed off and addressed Harry again. "What do you want, Potter? Tell me what I have to do to get rid of you and your pet troll." The table erupted in laughter as Draco finished.

"Three of your customers were murdered. We believe that there is a connection to you, and this club."

"Three wizards were murdered? I didn't see that in the Prophet."

"Three Muggles were murdered, Malfoy," Harry said. He pulled out the picture of the woman from the train platform and handed it to Draco. "Have you ever seen her before?"

"I think you mistake me for someone that cares, Potter," Draco said and handed the picture back with barely a glance.

"Hey asshole, have you seen her before or not?" Dudley asked, stepping in front of Draco before he could return to his seat.

Harry put his hand on his wand again.

"Listen here you giant, stupid, Muggle. You need to watch your tongue in my club, or you might just lose it. I don't recognize her, and I could care less how many Muggles she killed, or if you're next." Draco looked over at the table for approval and missed Dudley turning red. When he saw concern in the eyes of his guests, Draco put his hand on his own wand and turned around to face Dudley.

Dudley was angry. This self-centered jerk off had gone too far, acting like he was above the law, and bullying everyone around him. He remembered Harry speaking about Draco Malfoy in the past, and what an ass he was even though Harry saved his life. Malfoy being an ass, and Dudley's frustration about losing his memory over the past few days caused him to boil over and he just snapped. When Draco turned around with another self-satisfied sneer, Dudley couldn't help himself, he punched him hard in the face.

Harry had his wand drawn, but not in time to stop Dudley. He watched as Dudley's immense, well-trained fist crushed Draco's nose and sent him flying atop the green table. He was unconscious, and Harry assumed, still alive, but that punch was impressive. The table's occupants froze for a moment, unable to comprehend the brutality they had just witnessed. They were used to casting spells, and elegant duels; a bar brawl was completely unknown to them. Harry quickly grabbed Dudley's arm and tried to Disapparate them out, to no avail. Draco must have a ward that prevents Apparition. Harry then cast a silent Shield Charm as he pulled Dudley into a hasty retreat.

Dudley knew he was out numbered and would be overwhelmed by wizards unless he stuck close to Harry. He let Harry bring up the flank as he bulldozed dancers out of the way. There was a murmur going through the crowd, but with the loud music and flashing lights, Dudley and Harry had the advantage of surprise as they rushed the door.

Harry cast one more charm as the doorframe erupted into splinters just after they passed through. He and Dudley pushed the iron door closed from the outside as Harry shouted, "_Confringo_," causing the snakes to explode and collapse in front of the door, ensuring their getaway.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Harry shouted as they ran up the stairs to the street. Another explosion told him that Draco's pals were close to breaking through.

"I wasn't. He asked for it."

"Believe me, I would be the first one to agree with you that he deserves it," Harry said, panting as they reached the door to Fleet Street, "but we just can't go around punching people."

"I know," Dudley said as they blended into the crowd in front of Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, "but I bet we'll never hear of this again."

"How do you figure?"

Dudley watched as the men came out of the Fleet Market door and stood in the street looking around. After a few moments, they went back in and closed the door behind them. "See, they went back in. Your friend Draco is running something he shouldn't be, and he's not going to want any attention brought to his little club. Besides, I'm sure someone there can fix his nose as soon as he comes to," Dudley said with a smile.

"You're a load of trouble sometimes, you know that?" Harry said, patting Dudley on the back.

"That is what my wife used to say," Dudley answered as the pair walked away from the crowd to find a quiet spot to Disapparate.

"Are you doing ok, Big D?" Harry asked.

"Good enough," Dudley answered as Harry turned on the spot and took them away from the dark, side alley they found.

(Break)

The ring of his mobile phone roused him from a dead sleep. 3:15 the bedside clock told him as he picked up the phone.

"Dursley," he answered. "What is it?"

"Inspector, it's Pansy."

"What the, it's late.."

"I need your help, there is someone outside my…"

Dudley heard the crash of breaking glass and Pansy scream. "Get out of there now!" he shouted into the phone. He heard another crash, what sounded like the phone hitting the floor, and the line going dead. Before he could think about what to do next, he heard a crash in his living room.

He threw back the covers and grabbed a cricket bat that was up against the wall of his bedroom. He opened the door slowly and went into the living room. Another crash made him jump, then he saw what caused it, a beautiful, scantily clad woman had tripped over his coffee table and was head over heels wedged between the couch and the table. He dropped the bat, and went to help her up.

Pansy screamed as she saw the hulking figure towering over her in the dark, then relaxed as he held his hand out to her. She got to her feet and then realized that she was wearing almost nothing, just a chemise and knickers. She tried to cover herself, and then thankfully felt a throw blanket going around her shoulders.

"Are you all right?" Dudley asked as he tried not to look too obviously at her as he draped the blanket around her bare shoulders.

"Yes, where am I?" Pansy asked, looking around her.

"You're in my flat," Dudley answered. "How did you know to come here?"

"I panicked. You said to get out, I thought about you, and Disapparated. It's lucky that I didn't splinch myself. I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go, did I wake your family?"

"No one here but me."

"What about your wife, kids?"

"My wife died a few years back. I have one girl, she is away at school."

"Oh," was all that Pansy could muster. She sank down onto the couch and started to shiver. The realization of what just happened; that she was in danger, set in.

Dudley had seen people in shock more times than he could count. Pansy had just been through a terrifying experience, it was late, and he was exhausted, but he knew what needed to be done. "Pansy, can you hear me?"

Pansy nodded numbly.

"You're safe. You can stay here tonight, and then tomorrow we'll get this all sorted. Would you like some tea?"

"Scotch," Pansy answered as she looked up at Dudley.

"A woman after my own heart," Dudley said to himself as he pulled out a bottle of Glenfiddich and two glasses.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own any of this content. This chapter goes into the killer's story, especially the events that happened in the last chapter. I am intentionally leaving out her name, so apologies for all the 'she' and 'her' references.**

Midnight on Fleet Street usually consisted of drunken football fans standing outside The George, or The Tipperary smoking cigarettes. It wasn't quite time to stagger down the sidewalk or get thrown out for fighting. There were jet-lagged tourists walking past the closed up shops, wishing they could be asleep or could find something to do that they considered fun. No one noticed an attractive woman appear in a darkened doorway with a soft 'pop'.

As she walked out of the doorway, she examined her surroundings. There were some tourists standing in front of Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, the way they always did, and the odd patron coming out of her destination, through the _Fleet Market_ door into The Horn. The problem with this club was that it was so far underground; you couldn't really get a take on what kind of crowd would be there. She typically liked to size up the crowd, and the Muggle men, before she made a commitment to enter. That is why she rarely went to The Horn. That and the fact that it had so many damn wizards in it. She wondered why everyone and everything made her so angry these days. It might be a side effect of that potion, but if that was the case; she was willing to deal with it.

The owner, Draco Malfoy, was a first-class arse, and she would love to see nothing more than him fall on his pretty face, but there were just too many people around him, and too much protection to try to get close enough to him to do any real damage. She had thought about an Imperious Curse before, but he was such a jerk, she didn't think that she could manipulate him and still make it believable. Death seemed like the best option for him, and any other Pure-blood wizard for that matter, but she would have to bide her time. The potion she used had different results based on the donor heart. The larger the better. With her luck, Draco probably had a heart smaller than anyone else. Staying away from him was probably a good idea. She was too careless, too sure of herself, especially this weekend with that giant Muggle. He was lucky to get away, and she was lucky to have obviated him. She didn't want to have to move…yet.

Crossing the cobblestone street in five-inch heels was a job that required concentration and poise, so she almost lost it when she saw the Inspector himself and none other than Harry Potter, burst out of the doorway like they were being chased. She did an about-face and retreated into the darkened doorway from which she came. They didn't notice her, and they blended into the crowd of pub goers as though they were trying to hide from someone. She watched them, arguing, and then noticed a few seedy looking men burst frantically out of the doorway. Curiously, the men stood at the door and just looked around. They didn't try and hunt down the two they were obviously chasing; they just stood there for a moment and then went back inside. _What are they hiding?_

She stood motionless and watched Harry and Big D casually walk out of the crowd that they were hiding in, and around a corner where they Disapparated. She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned up against the storefront that provided her shadowy hiding place. This wasn't good. They were onto her, she felt sure.

She Disapparated on the spot and appeared in her own foyer, where she hung up her coat and walked up the stone staircase. "What to do, what to do?" she said to herself as she ascended the staircase, lovingly running her hands across the smooth stone.

"Is she going to kill someone else?" a voice from one of the paintings asked.

"I hope she gets another Muggle," a different voice responded.

"I'd rather it be a Gryffindor," said a third.

"Shut it Elsrickle," another voice said. It then added quietly, "I hope someone gets _her._"

"Don't worry yet, my friends," she called out as she walked towards the bar. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, as I am sure you all know by now. Why, you'd still be wasting away in that sorry excuse for a castle if I hadn't rescued you from the rubble."

"Stole us is more like it," a painting said quietly to its neighbor.

She ignored the comment as she continued, "I think I have done a fine job of creating my own little Hogwarts here, with my rescued items. I quite think I've made an improvement on everything. The staircase no longer moves, the tapestries and furniture from the old Slytherin Common Room have found new life, now that they aren't buried beneath the lake. No one really knew how to appreciate them anyway."

"Young lady, you took us from Hogwarts without permission. You are a thief!" the brave knight said as he boldly exclaimed from his painting.

"Oh Sir Cadogan, you simple, simple man. Those students and _professors_, ridiculed you. Why would you want to stay in a place like that? Any of you for that matter?" She took a long drink of firewhisky, and dismissed any further complaints as she went to her room.

Once there, enjoying the quiet, portrait-free atmosphere of her bedroom, she stripped out of her black dress and heels and pulled black trousers and a jumper out of her wardrobe. She pulled them on and then put her hair in a tight knot before grabbing her black cloak. _I've got to get rid of Pansy now,_ she thought. _If she dies, maybe this investigation dies with her._

(Break)

Pansy's flat in Lisson Grove bordered the south side of Regent's Canal. At three o clock in the morning, no one heard or saw her Apparate under the shade of a tree near the canal. She ignored the signs indicating that the area was under camera surveillance, and pulled the cloak further down to hide her face. She walked towards the doorway for Number Twenty-two and scanned the street. It was too light to approach it directly. She would have to try something _creative._ She turned on the spot and then Disapparated, finding herself on the roof, with unsure footing. As she caught her balance, she silently cursed the vent she landed near, and tiptoed quietly to the edge of the roof.

There was a long balcony just below her, and she swung herself down quietly. The flat was dark, and she was lucky that the top floor contained the bedrooms. The first doorway was a dark, a spare bedroom filled with boxes and junk. As she moved stealthily towards the next room, she froze as a light clicked on. _Damn_, she thought. She peeked around the corner and saw that Pansy had left the room. She moved to the next window just as another light came on. Pansy's voice rang through the stillness, and it was obvious that she was on a phone call.

Panic rose inside her and she kicked the bottom of the window hard. Pansy screamed and ran out of the room before she could get in. No time to do anything else, she crawled through the broken window just in time to hear the soft 'pop' of Pansy's Disapparition.

_Damn it_, she thought as she smashed all the bottles on Pansy's bathroom counter in fury. There was nothing to do now but go home.

(Break)

Harry arrived home late and kissed Ginny as she lay sleeping.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Late. Go back to sleep," Harry replied, walking towards the bath. He accidentally kicked over his bag, and his case files fell out. "Damn," Harry said, ready to be done with this day.

"Brush your teeth, I'll get it," Ginny said, as she got out of bed and walked over toward the spilled contents.

Harry watched her as he brushed his teeth. He loved everything about her, from the way she woke up to see him after a late night, to the way she looked in the crazy pajama set she had stolen from him. She pulled his files together, then stopped and stared at something.

"What is it," Harry asked.

"Why do you have this?" Ginny asked, holding up the picture of the killer that Dudley had given him.

"It's a murder suspect. She might have killed a few Muggles. We're trying to identify her."

Ginny looked at the picture again, and then incredulously at Harry. "I know her," she said. "She's my cousin."


	6. Chapter 6

"She's your cousin?" Harry asked as he crouched on the floor next to his wife to get a look at the picture she had pulled from his briefcase. "Are you sure?"

"It's Mafalda all right," Ginny answered gravely. "I haven't seen her in years, but this is her. She looks, I don't know, younger and healthier. It's the eyes that give her away. You don't remember her? She was in your year at Hogwarts for a little while, until her parents pulled her out."

"No, I don't remember anything about her at all."

"She is my mother's cousin's daughter, so she is like a second cousin to me. I've only really met the Prewetts a few times. Mafalda was a Slytherin, and from what my mother told me, very bright. You know, scary smart like Hermione. Her father was a squib and her mother was a Muggle. Her father was very proud of her, but I think that her mom had a hard time understanding. Ron told me that her parents pulled her out of Hogwarts in her first year, about the time that Hermione was attacked by the Mountain troll. I guess you never got a chance to talk to her."

"Weird, I thought that I knew everyone in my year."

"She was a little bit of an odd bird, if I remember correctly. It must have been crushing for her to be pulled out of Hogwarts after just being there for a short time. I never really heard about her after that. No one did. I don't even know if she went to some other school or anything. Her parents didn't like mine, so there was no reason to stay in touch," Ginny finished as she handed the picture back to Harry. "Sorry I can't help more."

Harry kissed her. ""You're great. This is the first lead we have. I'll follow up on it tomorrow."

"What do you want to do now?" Ginny asked with a smile.

"How about get you out of those dreadful pajamas?" Harry asked as he chased her to the bed.

(Break)

At six o'clock, Harry's mobile buzzed and woke him.

"Whatizzit Dudley?" he slurred sleepily in the phone. To say he needed more sleep would be an understatement.

"Pansy is here and someone tried to kill her last night," Dudley answered, sounding tired himself.

"I'll be right there," Harry said as he swung his feet onto the floor.

(Break)

"I might remember a first year that left Slytherin house," Pansy said as she remarked on Harry's retelling of Mafalda's departure from Hogwarts, "but I certainly don't know her now."

Pansy sat in one of Dudley's leather armchairs and held a mug of tea as she answered Harry's questions. Her anger towards him subsided as she began to understand the danger she was in. As the two conversed, Dudley watched her out of the corner of his eye as he had done all night. She was wearing one of his blue and white striped shirts, and it was so large that it fit like a dress. She had no makeup, and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, but she still looked stunning to him. He thought that it was no wonder that men fell at her feet.

"We need to get her somewhere safe," Dudley interrupted. As the pair focused their attention on him, he continued. "Think about it. There is this woman out there that found out where Pansy lives, and almost killed her last night. We don't know anything about this Mafalda yet; where she is and what she is capable of, and procedure dictates that we need to protect her."

Harry smiled at his cousin, "Procedure dictates?"

"Yes we need to get her to a safe house."

"A safe house, what's that?" Pansy asked.

Dudley sighed as he realized that here was an entire community of people that had never seen a cop show. Of course she had no idea what a safe house was, these wizards lived incredibly sheltered lives. He answered, "Somewhere that you won't be found by those that are looking for you. Someplace safe."

"Why don't I just stay here?" Pansy asked innocently.

Dudley's heart leapt into his throat for a moment before he could catch himself. Turning slightly red, he responded, "You're not safe here. Lisson Grove isn't too far, and I couldn't provide much protection from a magical attack. Harry needs to get you somewhere safe with magical protection."

Harry picked up on Dudley's blushing, and had what he thought was a great idea. "Why don't the two of you go to Privet Drive?" Harry asked with a smile. "No one would find you there."

"Oh no," Dudley groaned, "not there. I shut the place up when the housing market dropped, and I haven't been up there to clean it out. Don't you have something better?"

"A Muggle house in the suburbs, how charming," Pansy laughed. "I love it!"

Dudley glared at Harry and pulled him over to the corner of the room. "Harry, I can't take a girl like that to Privet Drive."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"How could I protect her from magical attacks? Besides, she's too...fancy for Little Winging," Dudley answered.

"Oi! You're sweet on her, I was right," Harry cried out.

"Shhh!" Dudley hissed through gritted teeth. He turned slightly red at the thought of Pansy overhearing them, and that, along with making him look like his deceased father, proved that Harry was right.

"Ok," Harry said with a smile, "I'll get Ron and some others to keep a eye on the place, and you two can just hole up there. Until we know more about Mafalda, having Pansy out of town is a good idea."

Dudley turned around and looked back across the room at Pansy. She had moved over to the window and was staring out at the city. She held her mug of tea in her left hand, and in her right she held the sheer curtain out of the way so that she could look out the window. He was drawn to her feet, and the way that she stood on her tiptoes to see over the rooftops, accentuated the graceful curve of her legs. The morning light shone through the shirt she was wearing, and Dudley could see the hint of her body's outline through it. He enjoyed being around her, and after her initial panic wore off last night, their conversation came easily. There was no way he could refuse Harry's suggestion. He was falling for Pansy, and he wanted to protect her. "Fine. I want to go up today. Can we go by her place to get her some clothes?"

Harry put his hand on Dudley's shoulder. "I'll tell you what. I'll get Ron and take Pansy by her place to get clothes and supplies for a few days. We can bring her to Privet Drive this afternoon. But listen, Big D. Pansy's still a Slytherin, and you are going to have to watch yourself around her. Only trust her as far as you can throw her, and watch out for her wand."

Dudley looked at his cousin curiously. Harry really was short-sighted when it came to these Slytherins. He thought Harry would have outgrown that house prejudice by now, but it was still evident. Why couldn't he see that Pansy was a person; a scared woman that needed help right now? "Look, just watch out for her and get her to Privet Drive safely. I'll open the place up and get some food for us on my way," Dudley said as he walked over to Pansy.

Pansy met them back in the center of the room and self-consciously held her arms across her chest as she asked," When can I go home and get some clothes and shower?"

Dudley answered her before Harry could, "Harry will escort you back to your place, while I go get the safe house ready. I need to pick us up some supplies on the way, and I'll meet you there." He tried to remain professional as he spoke, and tried not to notice how close she was standing, or how her perfume was affecting him.

"Thanks for watching over me last night," she said. "You made me feel safe. " With that she put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him downward so that she could reach up to kiss his cheek.

"Just doing my job," Dudley answered with a faint smile. He was sure that his blushing was giving him away. "Harry, go ahead and take her back to get some clothes. I'll meet you up there this afternoon, and watch your backs."

Harry nodded as he held out his arm for Pansy. She put down her mug, touched his arm and they Disapparated.

Dudley stood in the living room for a second, then went into the bedroom and pulled an overnight bag out of the closet. "You're a bloody fool, Dursley," he told himself.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I claim no ownership and this is just a story for fun. I finally named Dudley's daughter, after Petunia and Lily's mother. Of course, I made up that name too...after my great-grandmother, Georgia Evans. So no complaining!

Dudley had been weeding the back garden of Number Four Privet Drive for the whole afternoon. "You're a bloody fool," he told himself as he extracted more ivy from the garden wall. Pansy had caught him looking at her again, and he felt like a leering idiot. Earlier in the day, they enjoyed a nice lunch on the patio with easy conversation and even from a few laughs. Afterwards, they were both clearing the dishes away from lunch, and Pansy dropped her fork on the ground near the sink. He really couldn't help himself, his eyes were just drawn to her legs, and how her yoga pants clung to every curve as she bent over to pick it up. She looked back at him in mid-bend, and smiled as he flushed pink immediately. He tried to play it cool, and excused himself to go work out in the garden.

"What we're you thinking?" he said to himself as he pulled another vine loose. "This is work, nothing more. Stay professional."

When the last vines had been cleared, Dudley surveyed his work with some satisfaction. The sun was setting and cast a warm glow over the yard and the back of the house. Dudley took off his work gloves, and thought about how this could be a nice home for some new family, but he didn't have many happy memories to remember it by. Once he thought that he had had a pleasant childhood, but now that he was an adult and able to reflect on what a spoiled bully he was, it was an embarrassment. After his parent's death, he had visions of his own little family moving here, but his wife's long illness meant that they needed to be closer to the city, and years later, it was just easier to sell the place. It wasn't like Harry wanted to remember anything about his childhood, and Dudley had done his best to try and make amends for all that he had done wrong by Harry in their early years.

Dudley was ripped from his ruminations by the sight of a beautiful, dark-haired woman opening the back door of the house. She was wearing one of her little black dresses and over it, one of his mother's old aprons. _What's she playing at? _Dudley thought as he dropped his gloves on the bin and went to see her.

"Dinner is almost ready, go wash up," she said with a smile. "But first, come here and close your eyes."

Dudley smiled and closed his eyes. Pansy took his hand, and then led him through the kitchen towards the stairs.

"I have a little surprise for you, so no peeking. Just go upstairs and get cleaned up." With that, she placed him on the first step and prodded him forward.

It had been like this all week, they had been relaxed around each other, and Dudley thought they had a genuine respect for each other. That is what made this assignment so difficult, he finally met another woman that he was comfortable around, and it turned out that she is someone he is supposed to protect…not fall for.

(Break)

"Is it safe to come downstairs?" Dudley called out.

Pansy appeared at the bottom step and said, "Yes, please." She held out her hand to him and he took it as he joined her. What he saw blew him away. The whole main floor had been...transformed.

The flower print furniture in the living room had been replaced with black leather, and the walls were the color of steel. There were single sculptures on tables that had been cluttered with boxes. New rugs and window treatments made the room more contemporary, but tasteful at the same time. It was a fantastic, masculine home, but obviously through the careful eye of a woman that understood him. As they walked to the kitchen, Dudley noticed that the infamous cupboard under the stairs had been changed into built-in bookcases. The new oriental carpet led them into a kitchen that Dudley couldn't believe. The old appliances had been turned into elegant steel ones and the kitchen sink was changed into a deep stone basin. The countertop surfaces were a dark charcoal-colored marble, and the cabinets changed from painted white to mahogany. The dining area, where Dudley had thousands of meals as a child, was now changed into an intimate and romantic table for two, with draperies framing the space and candles hanging from the ceiling and leading out the now open entryway into the back garden.

"Pansy, it's...magnificent," Dudley said. "How in the world?"

"Magic," Pansy replied. "You've been so gracious to me this week; I just wanted to do something for you. I'm pretty good at Transfiguration Charms, so I thought I'd surprise you. I can change it back if you want."

"No way!" Dudley exclaimed. "I love it, it's brilliant. You have a great eye for this kind of thing."

Pansy had the biggest, most radiant smile that Dudley had seen yet. "Thank you, it's nice to have someone around that appreciates you."

They sat at the elegantly appointed table and toasted to their good health with a delicious wine. After the salad course, Dudley finally mustered the courage to ask a question he'd been thinking about for the whole week, "Pansy, there's one thing I don't understand."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Why is a beautiful, smart, and," he gestured at the furnishings of the new dining room, "obviously talented woman like you, single?"

Pansy put down her fork, smiled, almost sadly, and took a sip from her glass of wine. As she did, Dudley noticed her slim wrist, and the discreet, but obviously expensive bracelet she wore. In the week that they had been together, she had impressed him with how elegant she was, even when she rolled out her yoga mat in the back garden to do her stretching exercises. In the glow of these candles, he thought she looked radiant and completely out of his league.

"Smart? I don't think so, at least when it comes to relationships. I never seem to find the right guy." Pansy put her glass down and her hands in her lap. "I was married once, when I was younger, right after the war. My life had dissolved; I had no home, no hope, no money, so I married the first nice boy that came along. The problem was that he wasn't so nice. I tried to do what he wanted, to make him happy, but he was angry all the time."

"Pansy, I didn't mean to…" Dudley started, now wishing he hadn't asked the question.

"No, it's fine. I wouldn't tell you if I didn't want you to know. I haven't had anyone to talk to about it before. I was married, I got divorced, and now I've spent my life looking for someone better. Money was important to me, since my family lost everything, but I've met a lot of really shallow Witchunters. They are rich, and on the surface, they appreciate us, but deep down they are terrified of our abilities. As I look back at the last several years, I've had some nice dates, and received some nice gifts, but really, I've just been lonely. That's one reason I enjoy spending time with you. You're not judging me on who I was. My Gryffindor classmates like Harry think I am this terrible person that has been whoring around London since school, but that's not the case. Even if I were inclined to tell them otherwise, no one would believe me anyway. It is one of the terrible things about school, once you are in a House; you're stuck with that stereotype forever."

With finality, Pansy picked up her fork and resumed her meal.

"Hey, I believe you; I know what it's like out there. My wife died years ago, and I'm still alone. But then, I'm not the catch you are," Dudley said, trying to lighten her spirits.

"I didn't always look like this you know," Pansy said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Since we're being totally honest, I wasn't actually the most attractive girl in school. People used to tease me about my looks, even in Slytherin, and I rebelled against them by acting like a slut. Though it was just an act," Pansy said, her eyes shining fiercely as she remembered the past injustices.

"Same with me," Dudley said. "I used to be as big around as this table, but I outgrew it too."

"That's just it, I didn't outgrow it. I took something."

Dudley looked at Pansy. He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that this was important. "What did you take?'

"A potion. A horrible, evil potion that I took in a moment's weakness. It was after Draco started his club years ago. I'd had another failed date with a Witchunter, and they were teasing me about how I would be alone forever since I was so ugly. I ran off and cried just like I did throughout my school years. Draco came and found me. We had been close once, so I trusted him. What a mistake. He convinced me to try this new potion he bought from a friend of his, Marcus Flint, who works at a shop in Knockturn Alley called Borgin and Burkes. It was supposed to make me prettier."

"Did it work?" Dudley asked.

Pansy smiled at him, "Yes it worked, and it worked well. There was just a slight change to my face and my body slimmed out. I got a little taller actually. It was a lot like a Polyjuice potion, but it just changed me to a better me. You don't have any idea what I'm talking about do you?" she asked.

"Not so much. You took a potion, got prettier. I'm waiting for the horrible part."

"The potion was made from a human heart," Pansy said disgustedly. "That's not right. Draco laughed as he told me. Someone had died to make that potion, Dudley. I couldn't live with myself after that, much less take another one."

"What do you mean another one?"

"Well, one makes you prettier, and two makes you even prettier, and so on. Draco said that he heard of a woman that had taken several," Pansy shuddered visibly and pushed away her plate. "I realized that beauty wasn't worth a person's life. I slapped him hard and left. We haven't spoken since."

"That might be the connection we're looking for," Dudley said excitedly. "The men that died were slashed up, and I remember something about them being mutilated. I need to find out if their hearts were missing. I can get Harry to investigate that shop and that might just lead us to this mystery woman that no one can find."

"You think that this Mafalda made the potion Draco gave me?" Pansy paused for a moment. "Maybe that is why she doesn't look familiar. She's been taking the potion herself."

"Good thinking, we should get Harry on that too," Dudley said.

"Get Hermione on it," Pansy said.

"What?" Dudley asked. He was surprised to hear Pansy mention Hermione Weasley's name, after all the bad blood that went between Harry's friends and these Slytherins.

"She's really good with potions and research. If anyone can figure that potion out, and what other ingredients it has, or a way to locate the potion-maker, she could. Just don't tell them it came from me," Pansy said sadly.

Dudley walked around the table, bent down and gave Pansy a kiss on the cheek. "You're really remarkable, you know that?"

He missed Pansy's blush because at that moment they were interrupted by a barn owl that flew in the room, landing on the back of Dudley's empty chair. It hooted softly at Dudley and held out its leg for him to take the message.

"Someone's sent you an owl," Dudley announced. He was reminded of the owls that came to announce Harry's entry into the world of magic, and more recently his own daughter's acceptance into Hogwarts.

"Oh, he's looking at you, not me," Pansy chuckled. "Have you ever had an owl deliver to you before?"

"No," Dudley said warily. "What do I do?"

"Untie the message from his leg."

Dudley approached the owl slowly and gently untied the leather strap from his leg. As he looked towards Pansy for approval, the owl bit his finger.

"Ow!" Dudley exclaimed. "Why'd he do that?"

"Now you need to pay him," Pansy laughed.

"Why does an owl need money?" Dudley asked. "What should I pay him?"

Pansy continued laughing as she stood up and went to get her purse from the living room. She returned with a small bronze coin and handed it to Dudley. "Give him this," she said.

Dudley held out the coin, and the owl took it gently in his beak. He gave Dudley a reproachful look, and then flew out the way he came in.

"Who is sending you a note by owl?" Pansy asked.

Dudley read the short note and handed it to Pansy. "My daughter. She is asking me to come to Hogwarts for parent's weekend."

Pansy scanned the letter and looked at Dudley with a sly grin. "You're pretty sneaky Mr. Dursley. You told me your daughter was away at school. You didn't say that she was at Hogwarts." Pansy noticed the uneasy look on Dudley's face. "Oh! You've not been there before. Do you know what to do?"

"No. No idea. I know it has something to do with King's Cross station, and a magic train, but Harry took her on her trip in September. It seemed like the best thing. Georgia is enjoying school very much, but it is all over my head really," Dudley said as he picked up the note again. "I'd like to see her, but I don't want to ask Harry to escort me, and I need to stay with you until we get a handle on this killer."

"Why don't I take you to Hogwarts?" Pansy said with a smile.

Dudley's heart jumped again and he did his best to remain cool. "That would be nice, but how could we keep you safe?"

"Honey, if that is all you're worried about, then it's settled," Pansy laughed. "There is no place on earth more secure than Hogwarts. I would like to go back there and see the old place again myself. I could show you around." Pansy paused and looked at Dudley, "Do you think that your daughter would mind?"

It was Dudley's turn to smile, "She'll be ecstatic. She's been bugging me to meet someone nice for years."

Pansy stood on her tiptoes and kissed Dudley's cheek. "You're sweet. Now go call Harry about that potion."

Dudley took Georgia's note and headed upstairs to find his mobile. They needed to get this investigation moving so that he could be free to ask this woman on a date. Pansy kissing his cheek was starting to make him think about things; things like they could have a future together. In the back of his mind however, there was something he couldn't quite remember that Pansy kept triggering. It must have been something that happened to him that night that he woke up on the street. If he could only remember, it must be a clue.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here is where I say all that stuff about not owning anything and writing this for fun. This chapter is a little Ron-centric, and against my normal tendencies, I wanted him to be decent and not an idiot. **

Ron and Hermione were having an early breakfast in the Burrow. Last night, Harry sent an owl explaining what Dudley had learned from Pansy. Ron had been unable to sleep, thinking about how someone in his family, no matter how distant, could be killing men and using their hearts to create a potion that made women more beautiful. It was shameful, and he knew that he had to be the one to bring her to justice in order to clear the family name.

Around daybreak, Hermione suggested that they go downstairs for breakfast, something she felt sure would take Ron's mind off of his troubles. She knew he was taking this case personally, and wished that there was something that she could do to lighten his burden.

"Do you want some more coffee?" Ron asked as he got up from the table to fill his cup.

Hermione smiled at what an attentive husband Ron had become. He was so kind and considerate to her, unlike most of her friend's husbands. Although he was raised by a mother who held a very traditional role, Ron was just as adept at cooking and child rearing as he was an Auror. While her friends waited on their pureblood mates, her doting husband gave her non-stop attention. "Yes please, just a little," she answered. "Ron, do you really think that Mafalda's parents will just tell you where she lives? I mean, they may try and warn her or protect her. She is their daughter after all."

"They have to, Hermione," Ron said sadly. "She might have killed people, and made a potion from their hearts. It's horrible, and they should want someone to investigate it. I'll promise them that I'll be fair in my investigation, but I've got to be the one to clear this up."

Hermione put her arm around her husband as he poured her coffee, "Be careful, ok? I don't want her to hurt you. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, she could probably make enough potions to make a troll into a supermodel."

Ron kissed his wife on the top of her head. "Don't worry about me. Are you going to start looking into that potion for Harry today?"

"I'm already on it," Hermione responded. "I went through _Moste Potente Potions_ last night and I have a few more books that I brought home from the Ministry yesterday. If they don't help, I'll check some other libraries. I'm sure that this isn't something that she could have just made up."

"Ok, I'm going to take a shower then scarper off. Let me know what you find," Ron said as he climbed the stairs to their room. As he turned on the shower, and let the warm water fall over him, he wondered what his mother would have said about how to handle her relatives. Fortunately, his parents had retired to Cornwall a few years ago, leaving the Burrow to him, and there was no reason to let them know about this problem just yet. His mother still had a lot of fight left, and if she found out about it, there would be no stopping her; and he really wanted to be the one to solve this case.

(Break)

"Are you finding what you need dear?" Madam Pince asked over a wall of ancient, leather-bound books.

"I think I just found it, Madam Pince, thank you," Hermione said, peeking her head over the stack and smiling at the elderly librarian. "I appreciate you letting me in the restricted section at such short notice. This should help the case that Ron and Harry are working right now."

"Dear, you're the Minister of the Central Archives. If we can't trust you with our books, whom could we trust?" Madam Pince responded, maneuvering her leathery face into the resemblance of a smile.

Hermione returned to her work and made a few notes on her parchment. She then took another piece and wrote a message for Ron with all her findings. It seemed that the potion was originally developed in the 1600s for witches and wizards suffering from scars due to a smallpox-like disease; and then along the way, someone discovered that if you weren't disfigured, it made the user look more attractive. The book mentioned using the hearts of large animals for best results. She shuddered as she placed the quill and parchment into her bag, thinking about what kind of person would use a human heart for this potion, and the tiny note she found scribbled in the margin about insanity being one of the side effects of continued use.

Hermione levitated all of the books that she had been reviewing over the last eight hours back into their respective locations. She nodded to Madam Pince as she passed by her desk on her way to the Owlery to send her note to Ron.

(Break)

Ron was standing in the central garden of Bloomsbury Square watching the doorway of Number Ten when the owl found him. He unwrapped the message and smiled at Hermione's familiar penmanship.

_Ron,_

_The potion is called Forma Restitua and was developed to enhance the looks of anyone that took it. Human hearts were never to be used, and there is a note that continued use can cause insanity. There are no special traceable ingredients, only honey and goldenseal and other common items, it is just the heart that makes it special. Sorry I couldn't be of more help. Be careful out there._

_XOXO _

_Hermione_

Ron had been standing in the park for a few hours, looking for signs of life in Number Ten, as well as covertly running through standard tracking and enchantment revealing spells. He found nothing, and suspected that Mafalda had left the house. Her parents had given him the address earlier in the day, but they had no idea if she still lived there.

They were initially cool towards Ron, as he expected, but when the shock of what Mafalda might have been doing wore off, they were more than helpful. They claimed not to have seen Mafalda for three years, but they did know her last address; a fine home in Bloomsbury Square. They weren't sure where she came by her money, but she certainly had plenty of it. She wasn't married, had no children, and seemed to date different men regularly.

_Continued use could cause insanity_, Ron thought. At least that was comforting, his cousin was insane, and that is why she was slicing up men to get at their hearts for a beauty potion. A potion that seemed to be worth quite a bit of money by the looks of her house.

Ron crossed the street and went up to the door. In case anyone was watching, he knocked on the door as he held his wand in his pocket. He was ready to perform a silent charm to unlock the door, but he found that it opened slightly as he knocked. He quickly slipped inside as he closed the door behind him.

Restless, that is how the place seemed once he entered. Like there was something uneasy about the house itself.

"_Homenum Revelio_!" Ron called out. Nothing. There was no one here. He started up the stairs and was startled by the paintings on the walls around the staircase.

"Who's there?"

"Is it her?"

"No, it's a man."

"I say, is that a Weasley?" came a voice that was slightly familiar to Ron.

"Who said that?" Ron asked, looking around the walls at the multitude of paintings for the owner of the voice.

"'Tis I, Sir Cadogan. If ever you have the need of a noble heart and steely sinew call…"

"Save it," Ron said dismissively. "Why are you here? You are a Hogwarts painting."

"We were stolen!"

"Stolen!"

"Thief!"

"I hate her."

Voices rang out in protest all around Ron, and as he ventured up the stairs to look at the multitude of protesting pictures, he came to the next level and saw the giant room that filled the whole floor, with even more portraits.

"This looks like the Slytherin common room," Ron said to himself, remembering the time he and Harry entered it, disguised as Crabbe and Goyle.

"It is the Slytherin common room," a foreboding voice said from Ron's right.

Ron turned to see a large, dark painting with a golden plate at the bottom that read, _Arcturus Black, 1884-1959_. "What do you mean?" he asked the man in the painting.

"Just after the final battle, she took everything out of the Slytherin common room, including the furnishings and paintings. She looted the rest of the castle as well. Quite cunning for a Mudblood, everyone assumed that the items were simply destroyed. I imagine that you are the first to determine that we were stolen. She chose no paintings that were empty, so none of us has other frames to go to and report what happened. We are here simply because we have nowhere else to go," Arcturus said matter-of-factly. "No one expected a young person to be so clever as to steal castle artifacts in the moments after the final battle. She is quite adept with certain dark charms, so I can see why she was sorted into Slytherin. However, we have tired of her and would appreciate being returned to our rightful places."

"Bloody Hell," Ron said quietly as he looked around. "This won't do at all. It is time to bring this into the open." He reached into his pocket, grabbed an old coin, and waved his wand over it. Then he went back downstairs to wait by the front door.

Mafalda decided that the redheaded man watching her house must be a Weasley, and most likely her distant cousin, Ronald. She watched from the doorway of the coffee shop at the corner of the park. It was obvious to her that he must be an Auror by the way he held his wand inside his jacket as he performed charms designed to determine if she was home. It was just by sheer luck that she happened to be shopping when he arrived. She was tired of waiting for him, but it was fascinating to see how long the idiot would stand there watching. A message came by owl, and that seemed to spur him into action. He crossed the park and entered her house. _When life gives you lemons_, she thought. He looked big enough to create a powerful potion.

She decided to give him a few moments inside. He would need to wander around for a minute and see how beautiful and elegant her home was. He should be astonished at how she was able to take precious items from Hogwarts, _right out from under their noses._ She would give him some time inside her home, and then she would go in and kill him. _Kill him for being a pureblood Weasley. That would teach them all a lesson_.

The bell on the coffee shop door rang an annoying note as she left and threw her cup into the bin. She walked towards her front door, her hand on the wand in her bag. _I'll use the Body Bind Curse first, then I can hurt him any way I want. I could slice him open and take his heart out while he watches. I wonder what his beautiful wife would think about that?_

As she started to cross the street, she noticed five men dressed in long, dark coats turn the corner. She froze and looked down at the car in front of her, like she was unlocking it. She watched in horror as they walked up to her door, and he let them in. She was too late. There was no going back to the house now, it was lost, and with it, all her precious treasures that she had collected from Hogwarts.

She needed time to think, to come up with a new plan. Mafalda walked down the street, away from her beloved home, now looking for just the right person. In a few blocks, she saw him, a handsome, well-dressed man, just a little older than she. _Imperio_, she whispered, and the man came to a stop. "What is your name," she asked as she put her arm in his.

"My name is Reginald," he answered in an unnatural voice, as the pair continued walking down the sidewalk.

"Hello Reginald," Mafalda purred. "Do you live alone?"

"Yes, I have a flat off of Russell Square," he answered.

"That will do just fine. I believe that I will stay with you for a few days, you can wait on me hand and foot until I decide that you have served your purpose, at which time I will kill you. You would like that wouldn't you?" Mafalda said with a mirthless smile.

"Yes, I would like that very much," Reginald parroted as he led her towards his home and certain death.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I own none of this and write just for fun. And making this stuff up has been fun. This chapter is really interesting to me...how wizards could really mess with Muggles if they wanted to...we have no defenses it seems.**

**Mafalda is getting crazier and Dudley and Pansy are getting closer. I was going to have them go to Hogwarts together, but this got too long so I stopped it here.**

The kitchen that had formerly belonged to Reginald Wilfer was now transformed into a stone-floored chamber with no windows. Silencing Charms had been placed on the flat for the past few days, and fortunately for Reginald's neighbors, they had remained blissfully unaware of the horrific events that had been taking place. Under the influence of the Imperious Curse, Reginald had been unable to run, or protect himself against Mafalda. He was her slave, as well as victim. She forced him to cook and clean for her; beat him severely whenever she felt like it; and made him stand like a statue for hours on end, effectively starving and dehydrating him in front of her while she watched his television and ate his food. She made him drain his bank accounts, containing sizable sums since the recent death of his dear mother, and transfer all the money to accounts in HSBC that she maintained under one of several aliases. She learned years ago how easy it was to perform a Confundus Charm on a Muggle bank manager, and in addition to zero interest loans, and being able to purchase properties in foreclosure before they went to auction, she also created several accounts to hide her funds. She chose the one under the name _Hermione Granger _for a laugh. She figured that if anything happened to her, Hermione having to explain how a dead man's money ended up in Hermione's account would be satisfying.

The bubbling cauldron sat atop a stone table and the red liquid continued to reduce, making a sickening squelching sound as it thickened. As she added more of the ingredients that Reginald had procured for her, she knocked a blood-covered knife off the tabletop. Gently, she placed her shoe against the handle, and kicked it to the corner of the room, where it landed near Reginald's hollowed-out carcass. She turned back to her cauldron without a second thought for her victim, who lay propped in the corner, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to beat. As the boiled and shriveled heart in question rose to the surface of the cauldron, she merely pushed it under with the back of her wooden spoon.

After a few more moments, Mafalda extinguished the flames under the cauldron and let it cool. She went into Reginald's bedroom and stripped out of all her clothes and put on a dark blue silk robe with golden trim at the sleeves and lapel. Her bare feet padded across the stone floor once more as she returned to the cauldron. Taking a ladle and a pewter cup, she scooped out a generous measure of the thick, sickly-sweet liquid. As she poured, it fell into the cup in one long strand, and Mafalda turned her face away in disgust. After a moment, she placed her lips to the warm metal cup and drank. Once she started to drink, there was no stopping as the congealed red slime made its way into her mouth and down her throat. She gagged repeatedly as she forced herself to continue swallowing, the viscous fluid seeming to take an eternity to leave the cup and enter her stomach.

When the last clot passed her lips, and she was finally able to take a breath, the familiar pain started to generate from her very core. She dropped the cup on the floor as she grabbed the table with both hands and screamed out in agony. The pain quickly became unbearable as she dropped to her knees and then the floor. Each of her joints and their related bones creaked and groaned as they stretched and slightly changed shape. Her hair hurt as it sprouted thicker and more radiant from her scalp. Her nails burned with a fury as they grew longer and stronger. She watched in exquisite pain as her thighs and calves lengthened and became more defined. Her breasts throbbed, feeling as though they were about to burst as they grew underneath her robe. Each of her muscles ached as they stretched and remolded themselves, and her skin tightened and became smooth and wrinkle free. Delirious with pain, she collapsed with a happy smile on her lips as she watched the blood from Reginald's corpse pool up around the limp sleeve of her stolen robe. _They will pay_, was her last conscious thought as the darkness leaked into her consciousness and she finally blacked out.

(Break)

Dudley was in a soft chaise lounge on a white sandy beach. He looked to his right and left, and the beach, with a line of palm trees and lush vegetation, stretched out to the horizon on either side. Crystal-clear, blue water lapped against the sand, and as he turned around to look behind him he heard a familiar voice.

"They're almost ready! I just need to, ah here we are," Pansy cheerfully called out, and a moment later appeared in the doorway of a cozy, thatched rotunda. She was wearing a simple black bikini, and a batik patterned sarong. In her hands she held a small tray with two tropical drinks. As she walked up to Dudley, she placed the tray on a side table that separated their chairs. "I hope you like them," she purred.

Dudley picked up his cool glass and as he turned around to thank her, their lips met. Pansy placed both hands on either side of his head and held him close while she kissed him, her tongue tentatively exploring his as she gently sat down in his lap. He snaked his arm around her, feeling her warm, suntanned skin, smoothed down by what smelled like fragrant coconut oil.

She pulled her drink off the tray and took a long sip and said, "There, isn't that better, Big D?"

"What did you say?" Dudley asked turning around to see that it wasn't Pansy that was sitting in his lap, but another beautiful woman. He didn't know her, but something seemed familiar. "Who are you?" Dudley asked as the woman rose from his lap.

"Come on, you stupid Muggle, don't you remember?" the mysterious woman said. She pointed a thin stick at him, and each of his nerve endings erupted in pain.

He screamed out because he was on fire and freezing at the same time. The pain was unbearable, and the woman laughed with a sinister smile as she focused her wand on him. As she reared back for a more powerful attack, Dudley sat bolt upright in bed.

He was drenched in sweat, and shaking, and when he realized that this had all been a dream, he was startled to find someone else in the darkened bedroom with him.

"Are you all right now? You were having a bad dream," Pansy said as she stroked his back to calm him down.

"Yeah, I guess, I don't know," Dudley answered. "It was just a crazy dream."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes dreams are important," Pansy asked seriously.

"I was on a beach, and you were there," Dudley said, trying not to notice that Pansy was next to him, and only wearing a t-shirt. He couldn't forget the vision of her in a bikini, and the two of them kissing. Thankfully the comforter on his bed was thick, and he hoped that Pansy had not noticed his arousal. "You made us some drinks, and then you changed."

"Changed into what?" Pansy asked.

"Changed into someone else. Another woman. We were kissing and then you changed, and she called me a 'stupid Muggle', and put some kind of spell on me, and it hurt. A lot. I don't know who she was. Something seemed familiar about her, but I don't know what. It's been like that a lot lately, things reminding me of something but I don't know what." Dudley rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and then looked at Pansy, who, as usual, looked stunning in the light from the streetlamps that barely illuminated the room.

"How long has that been going on?" Pansy asked.

"What?" Dudley asked, afraid that she thought he had been dreaming about her for several nights, and that was a question he did not want to answer aloud.

"When did you first feel like there was something you should remember, but couldn't?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dudley answered, relieved that she was talking about his memory. "I guess after that night I passed out."

"You passed out? Does that happen often?" Pansy asked.

"No, never. I actually don't remember passing out. I just remember some kids helping me up from the sidewalk; I don't know how I got there or anything."

"Would you mind if I did something?" Pansy put both hands on his shoulders.

"What do you have in mind?" Dudley asked.

"I'd like to try and read your mind. Based on what you said, I would venture to guess that you had been Obliviated. I'm a little surprised that Harry didn't think of it. You have the classic symptoms, a loss of time, waking up somewhere you didn't remember going, and a nagging feeling that you're trying to remember something but it's just not there." Pansy looked at him seriously and continued, "You have to let me in though, I won't do it if you don't want me to."

"So you just go in and read my mind, you can see everything?" Dudley asked nervously. He wanted to know more, but the thought of Pansy seeing his private thoughts about her would be embarrassing.

"It is like looking through a fog, there are a lot of thoughts and memories in there, but they are fuzzy until you start to focus in on them. I would just look for you waking up on the sidewalk, and go backwards from there. I would try to stay away from your private thoughts," she said smiling.

"Oh, what the hell. Go for it," Dudley said.

"Great, let me get my wand, and I'll be right back," Pansy said, getting up from his bedside and walking back to the bedroom that used to be his parent's.

Dudley couldn't help watch the graceful sway of her hips and how the t-shirt didn't quite cover everything as she left the room. _Damn it, don't think about that now,_ he chastised himself, not wanting her to know that he was checking her out.

Pansy returned a few moments later, wearing a robe and carrying her wand. "Just relax," she said, "this won't hurt at all."

Dudley leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. He felt one of Pansy's hands rest gently on his right temple and heard her whisper, "_Legilimens._"

Images swam disconnectedly in his mind. Pansy in her nightshirt, Pansy wearing those yoga pants he liked so much, dinner after she transfigured the house. Meeting with Harry at her flat, and then talking to Draco at his club, The Horn. Images of his office in Scotland Yard passed by, followed by the night when he woke up on the sidewalk. There was an image of the kids rounding the corner, and an odd blackness, like a blank screen. For an instant, an image flickered by and he heard Pansy make a questioning noise. The flicker came back again and froze. It was an odd, out of focus image, like a still frame of a stone stairway with flying debris. _That's odd_, Dudley thought, _I don't remember a staircase like that._ The blackness returned and another image came up, this time a faint image like a family crest, but a green snake coiled on a silver shield.

"Hmm, interesting," Pansy muttered as they continued.

The last image he saw was the inside of a nightclub. Evidently, he was walking through a crowded floor to make his way to the bar, and then that is when the blackness returned.

"That's what I thought," Pansy stated. "You've been Obliviated, and I bet by Mafalda. How you came across her is anyone's guess, but you are probably lucky to have escaped with your life. I think she did a good job, but she left some thoughts behind. She may have been far away when she cast the charm."

"You sure know a lot about erasing people's memories," Dudley said as he opened his eyes.

"It was my father's specialty," Pansy said, turning away. "Let's call it an old family secret."

"Does he still practice it?"

Pansy got up and kissed him on the cheek, her eyes swelling with tears. "That's what I like about you, you are so naïve. My father is in Azkaban for life. He will never get to do that, or anything else, ever again. Good night." With that, Pansy left the room and closed the bedroom door on her way out.

Dudley thought about going after her, but decided it was best not to follow. He was here to protect her, not sleep with her, and like she said, there was so much he didn't understand. _Besides_, he thought, _she's strong as iron. She doesn't need me to comfort her._

Alone in the master bedroom, watching the wispy, backlit clouds pass in front of the full moon, Pansy cried herself to sleep again.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Right, I don't claim ownership for this content. Oh, and by the way, this one gets a little dark at the beginning.

Mafalda Apparated to Fleet Street just before four in the morning. The late hour meant that she would have no witnesses, as even the career drunks had gone home. She walked up to the Fleet Market doorway, pushed it open firmly, and started the trek underground to The Horn and an unscheduled meeting with Draco Malfoy.

Whether it was the blast that opened the doorway, or the sight of a beautiful woman entering through the smoky rubble, Draco and two of his henchmen were on their feet when she entered.

Twin jets of green light erupted from the end of her wand, instantly extinguishing the lives of Draco's two companions and leaving him gaping and terrified. Before he could muster the courage to raise his own wand, he heard "_Crucio_!" and his world changed to one consumed by pain taking over every cell of his body. He screamed like a stuck pig before he blacked out.

"Draco, honey," Mafalda purred. "Wake up."

Draco tried to shake the fog from his head and regain focus. He was tired, sweaty, and bound to a table. He struggled against his restraints and screamed out, "What are you doing you bitch?"

A harsh slap across his face silenced him.

"There is no need to use that type of language, Draco," Mafalda chided as she stuck him in the thigh with a small, sliver tipped knife. As Draco screamed out in pain, Mafalda continued, "I bet that really hurts doesn't it? It is a little toy I picked up on one of my trips to Borgin and Burkes. The blade has been cursed so that any wound it creates will never heal. Fascinating isn't it?"

Draco raised his head up against his restraints and saw the blood flowing from the hole the knife left in his leg. His panic increased. "Who are you, and what do you want from me?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You don't really care who I am, you arrogant prat. I've just come to you for some answers," Mafalda said as she casually twirled the knife in her hands. "Like, where can I find Pansy Parkinson?"

"How should I know?" Draco said with a sneer before the knife was plunged into his abdomen, just above his waist.

Mafalda let him scream for a moment before she extracted the blade. "Want to try that again?"

Draco panted in panic as he felt his blood spilling out. "You're killing me! If that knife never heals…" he shouted.

"All the more reason for you to try and answer my questions truthfully," Mafalda responded casually. Her voice was calm, her eyes wide and insane.

Draco's mind raced, "I heard, just a rumor, that she was holed up somewhere with that giant Muggle cousin of Potter's. I don't know where, I swear." Draco screamed out as Mafalda drug the edge of the blade against his flawless cheekbone, creating a deep, painful gash. The blood mixed with his tears. "Please, I don't know," he cried.

"You need to think of something better," Mafalda said, changing her position and holding the knife above Draco's groin.

"No, no, no!" he cried out. "Parent's weekend, Parent's weekend!" Draco shouted. I heard that the giant has a daughter at Hogwarts. Parent's weekend is tomorrow, I bet he'll be going there. Please, please, let me go free."

Mafalda paused and looked into Draco's eyes. "Want to be free? I think I can help with that," she said.

Draco relaxed as he expected the strange woman to release him. He thought about how he could find his wand to teach her a lesson, or at least stop the blood that was rapidly leaving his body. What he didn't expect was the feel of the knife across his throat as she slit it from ear to ear. His jaws moved like a fish out of water, and his screams were inaudible. He was unable to do anything but die as he watched the strange woman walk away.

(Break)

Dudley had a serious English breakfast underway by the time Pansy joined him downstairs. He handed her a coffee, black, and said, "How did you sleep?"

"Not so great, I'm afraid," Pansy answered.

"Listen I'm sorry about always saying the wrong thing. I guess I don't have any idea about what you've been through. I have enough trouble with women," Dudley said, flipping a grilled tomato onto a plate with a fried egg, slice of bacon and beans, "much less, a beautiful, magical one."

Pansy smiled sadly as she sat on a stool at the counter to watch Dudley work. "That's one of the things I like about being around you. I mean, it does get tiresome here on Privet Drive," Pansy gestured grandly at the kitchen area she had transformed, "but you are not judging me. I haven't felt this relaxed in years. Last night, telling you about my father, and his being in prison…it made me feel a little criminal. I didn't like that."

Dudley placed the full plate in front of her. "You're no criminal. Trust me; I have an eye for these things."

The pair tucked into their breakfast. After a few quiet mouthfuls, Dudley's watch alarm went off.

"What's that for?" Pansy asked.

"Just a reminder to get ready to go, we've got to drive to King's Cross Station today."

"Drive?" Pansy responded, feigning disgust. "Honey, I can just Apparate us there."

Dudley finished his plate and put it into the dishwasher. "I want to drive. If Mafalda is out there, I think that the last thing she would expect is for us to go by car. The more surprises we can throw at her the better."

"Are you scared?" Pansy asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Scared about going to Hogwarts to see your daughter. You've never been there before, you don't have magic, and one of the children could even throw a curse your way and embarrass you. I don't know that I could do it," Pansy said.

Dudley laughed as they went upstairs to get their bags. "When I was in the Army, we had guns. Huge guns that could blow through a wall in order to kill an enemy. After a while, you don't feel safe unless you are carrying one and sleeping with it. I realized that I didn't want to live that way, so I stopped thinking about it. I found that when I didn't have my gun, the locals treated me better and I got things done peacefully. As a cop, I could carry one, but I don't want to. That's not the way I want to live my life. I use force only if I must."

Pansy watched as Dudley picked up his bag and tossed it casually across his shoulder. Sometimes she forgot how big and strong he was. Trying to be gentle must not come easy to him.

"Where's your bag?" Dudley asked.

"Got everything I need right here," Pansy said, patting her purse.

Dudley shook his head as he led them down the stairs and held the front door open for her.

(Break)

The drive to the station went right on schedule and Dudley turned onto Euston Road to get to the car park behind St. Pancras. He and Pansy got out of the car, locked it, and made their way back through the car park to the corner. While they stood at the corner, Dudley got an uneasy feeling. He took Pansy's hand, and slowly pulled her away from the curb and back towards a newsstand. It was one of those times that he wasn't sure how, but he knew that something was wrong. He made eye contact with one of the Aurors that Ron and Harry had assigned to keep watch, and the man knew that Dudley thought something was amiss. Just then, a large double-decker bus jumped the curb and slammed into a cement piling near the front of St. Pancras, coming to a sudden halt. The driver was uninjured, and as the bus was out of service, there was no one else on board to get hurt.

"Dudley, what just happened?" Pansy said, holding his hand tighter.

"I don't know. Something told me to get away from the curb. Just lucky, I guess. Listen, I don't know if Mafalda had anything to do with that or not, but I think we'd be safest among a bunch of your magical friends. Let's get to that platform, ok?" Dudley said, forcing a grim smile.

Dudley squeezed her hand gently and led her back across the street, avoiding the collection of police and emergency vehicles that were assembling. He missed Pansy swallowing nervously as she faced her own fears of returning to Platform 9 ¾, and what horrors her "friends" might have in store for her.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N- I don't own any of this stuff, but I sure wish I did. I also wish I was working on the script for that new JKR movie about Newt Scamander.

Dudley stood on the platform at 9¾, and stared at the red train. He'd never seen anything like this in his life.

"Are you doing ok?" Pansy asked as she stood directly in front of him, looking up into his face to make sure that the transition from King's Cross to platform 9¾ didn't have any adverse effects. Some Muggles had a feeling of disorientation as they passed through the barrier, but Dudley looked fine, just a little overwhelmed.

"Yeah," Dudley said absentmindedly, and then looked down at Pansy. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," she said with a smile. "Let's get a seat."

They entered one of the cars and walked towards the rear of the train. Pansy led the way, but Dudley noticed that each time she entered a new car, she paused and looked at the occupants. A few cars in, Pansy didn't open the connecting door after looking through the glass, and turned around towards Dudley. She was white as a sheet and slightly trembling.

"Let's go back to one of these other cars," she said hurriedly and tried to squeeze by Dudley as he took her arm.

"What's wrong?" Dudley asked.

Before Pansy could answer, the door burst open and a rather large, unattractive woman squealed out, "Parkinson, is that really you?" then burst out in a disgusting cackle.

Dudley realized in an instant that this was what was bothering Pansy, and felt a twinge of guilt thinking how kind and gracious she had been to escort him on this journey, and that he had no idea that there were demons that she had to face as well. After all that she had done for him, he thought that there must be some way to repay the favor. He stepped around Pansy to face the grotesque looking woman and extended his had sharply, keeping her at a distance, "Hello, I'm Dudley Dursley, what's your name?"

The witch took Dudley's hand, shocked at his size and his invasive, obviously Muggle upbringing. "I'm Millicent Bulstrode-Sparks," she answered dumbly.

"Nice to meet you, Millicent" Dudley responded. I guess you have a child that goes to Hogwarts; did you attend there or are you a Muggle like me?" Dudley heard a slight snicker from Pansy who had now moved up next to him, and took this as a good sign. If he played the fool, maybe it would take some of the negative attention off of her.

"A Muggle, why I…I was in Slytherin House with Pansy," Millicent stuttered.

"Oh really? I guess you graduated a few years earlier?" Dudley said innocently.

Millicent stared daggers at Dudley who just towered over her and smiled. Dudley stepped past the stunned Millicent and walked into the car. The seats were filled with pale, somber-faced adults who looked as though Dudley was an insect. They had all witnessed the interaction with Millicent, and the car was now silent as a tomb.

He took a few steps into the middle of the car, knowing that the inevitable murmured comment was coming, but no idea what to do next. His thought was to distract their attention from Pansy, but now he realized it would have been nice to have a plan. Who knew what magic these people could hit him with?

"Muggle," a portly, pale man said quietly to his partner.

"I'm sorry," Dudley said stepping over to the man who was sitting in an aisle seat. "Were you saying something to me, or just talking behind my back?"

The man stood up, and faltered slightly as he realized that Dudley was a head taller than he was. He gathered himself and said with a drawl, "Keep moving, Muggle. You're not wanted here."

Dudley noticed Pansy at the end of the car, reaching into her bag, as he put his arm around the stranger and pulled him into a side hug. "I would have thought you people would have learned a little more tolerance by now."

Another man, a few seats away, stood and pointed his wand at Dudley, "Unhand Nott now."

"You're pointing your wand at me?" Dudley asked.

The man smiled and made a motion just as Dudley spun and pushed the man he was holding, evidently Mr. Nott, towards the wand. A jet of light erupted from the tip of the wand as Mr. Nott froze in place for a moment, then toppled like a log. The man who cast the spell looked horrified for a moment, and then with a hateful look raised his wand again.

"Don't you dare!" Pansy shouted from behind him and blasted him with her outstretched wand.

The nine inch, yew wand flew from his hand and landed at Dudley's feet. The man stood there embarrassed, looking like he was unsure what to do; the thought of bending over to retrieve his wand in front of Dudley was not an appealing idea.

Dudley bent down, picked up the man's wand, and examined it in his hand. He felt a little pulse in the wood, almost a vibration, like something magical was inside it. He then stepped over the prostrate, still-petrified body of Mr. Nott, and held out his hand to Pansy who took it with a grateful smile. He turned to the owner of the wand and held the wand out. "Be more careful next time," he said as he turned his back and walked towards the door on the other side of the car. No one said a word as the pair closed the door behind them.

Pansy remained silent as they passed through another car and moved to one with passenger compartments. They found an empty one, sat down on seats facing each other, and started to laugh. "I can't believe that you just went in and started antagonizing them. That was very bold, to say the least. I felt so powerful hitting Rabini with _Expelliarmus._ It's been so long since I did anything like that! Did you see that wand fly out of his hand and fall at your feet? It was priceless! What were you thinking, doing something like that? You're a Muggle, I mean, you could have really been hurt."

Dudley watched her as she retold the events. She was excited and felt empowered. That was exactly what he hoped would happen. "When I saw you scared and wanting to turn back from that compartment, I saw a little girl that had been bullied, not the beautiful strong woman that I know. I figured that if I went in there and started some trouble, either they would do something to me and forget about tormenting you, or you would show yourself to be the amazing witch that you are…and you did," Dudley said proudly.

"You are magnificent," Pansy said, and leaned over and kissed him. Not on the cheek as she had several times before, but this time on the lips. She held it for a few moments then leaned back in her chair. "Thank you," she said.

"No, thank you," Dudley said, trying to look cool, but sure that he was blushing.

(Break)

When the Hogwarts Express was an hour from the station, Dudley realized that the time had flown by. Pansy had treated him to unusual sweets bought off a cart. He liked the idea of a chocolate frog, but couldn't bring himself to actually bite into it. Pansy told him stories about school, and how the Slytherins were viewed by the other houses, as well as how they viewed themselves. It was an interesting insight into their house. They weren't this group of evil students, they were smart and cunning, but they did enjoy the drama that surrounded their house. She told him stories about riding this train to Hogwarts for the first time, and wondering which House she would be sorted into. She was deathly afraid of being anything other than a Slytherin, but, looking back on it all now, she thought that she would have made a great Hufflepuff.

"Did you know," Pansy started, "That there is a theory that Helga Hufflepuff, one of the Hogwarts founders, was actually a military genius, and extremely powerful. They believe that she lead armies to victories over other wizards and claimed all of Britain for herself and the other three."

"Interesting, so why does that house have such a passive reputation?" Dudley asked, a little surprised that he had some idea about the topic.

"She was the first one of the founders to die, and because she had been so powerful, and dominant over them, they changed her legacy to be the opposite of her personality in order to spite her forever." Pansy finished the story as she looked out the window.

"Dudley, I used to feel powerful," she said, looking over at him. "I don't know that it was right or wrong, but during the war, I thought that our side was going to win. For a kid like me, I didn't really understand about death and terror, and it meant more about Slytherin winning…like we would win a House Cup. I felt wronged by Harry and how fantastic he and Gryffindor were. I wanted to win for a change. It took until the final battle for me to understand that it was all wrong, it wasn't about winning, it was about belonging. I wanted to be a part of something. I was a Slytherin, but we were hated by the others. My parents were Death Eaters, but they kept that from me. I was raised by nannies and sent away to school. My friends were those absolute prats in the other car," she said, wiping at the corner of her eyes. "You know, I think that I've really been alone my entire life?"

Dudley pulled out a handkerchief and moved over to sit next to her. "Hey, you're not alone now," he said. "You haven't been alone for weeks, actually. I'm surprised that you're not tired of me by now."

Pansy smacked him on the chest as she stopped crying for a moment. "Don't you say that. You've been wonderful to me. I like being with you, even if you do it because it is your job."

"Yeah, my job," Dudley said, putting his arm around Pansy so she could rest against him. "My job to keep you safe on a train full of wizards," he laughed. As she leaned against him and looked out the window, Dudley thought, _The problem with this being my job is that I'm falling for you, which is against the rules. I don't know what we're going to do when this is over. I like being with you too._

Later, as Dudley and Pansy stepped onto the platform, they were surprised to see a grim-faced Harry and Ron waiting for them. The four of them huddled away from the crowd as Harry gave them the bad news.

"Draco's body was discovered this morning at The Horn. We're pretty sure that Mafalda killed him, and it looked as though she tortured him for information first. My guess is that she found out something about the two of you. You're in more danger than ever," Harry said gravely.

"We should get back to London, we need to get her safe," Dudley responded quickly.

Harry gave a small smile as he reached up and put a hand on Dudley's shoulder, "Big D, there is no place safer than Hogwarts. Mafalda can't surprise us inside the castle."

"How can you track her in a place like this?" Dudley asked, gesturing to the castle that loomed ahead of them.

Harry held up an old, folded piece of parchment, "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

The group of parents went right through the gates of Hogwarts and in the enormous front doors. There was no ceremony, only Headmistress McGonagall welcoming them and ushering them into the Great Hall. Dudley noticed some workers having trouble with a staircase on a floor above them. It seemed to be moving on its own as they tried to finish attaching it.

"Ha, I knew that staircase would give them trouble," Ron said as he and Dudley stopped to see if a worker would be bucked off the moving, stone stairs.

The stairs looked familiar to Dudley though he'd never been here before. _Maybe it is a symptom of memory loss like Pansy said_, Dudley thought. "What are they doing?" He asked Ron.

"Turns out that Mafalda actually came into Hogwarts years ago and stole them. I guess she reduced them and snuck them out along with tons of paintings, furniture, and tapestries. I found them in her house, and we had them returned here. Everyone is excited about installing them, but I knew those stairs were trouble. They are just spiteful," Ron said with a shake of his head.

As they entered the Great Hall, the parents were greeted with cries of glee as their children ran up to greet them. Pansy was curious, and a little anxious, about what Dudley's daughter Georgia would think about him showing up with a strange woman at his side. She scanned the crowd of young faces to try and find one that looked like Dudley, but didn't see one. Looking at Dudley, it seemed to her that he didn't see his daughter either. She noticed worry cross his face. "Do you see her?" Pansy asked.

"No, I don't," Dudley said. He turned to Harry who was standing next to him. "Will that piece of paper you have tell me where Georgia is?"

Harry took his parchment and turned his back on the crowd. He muttered something that Dudley couldn't hear, then turned the parchment around and flipped it open. His movements became more hurried and frantic until at last he turned to face the crowd. "She isn't in the castle." He motioned for Headmistress McGonagall to come to their group and asked, "When is the last time that you saw Georgia in the castle, Headmistress?"

The elderly Headmistress thought for a moment, "I saw her at lunch, sitting with the Gryffindors. She's not here now?"

"No she's not," Dudley said, looking around the Great Hall for anything suspicious.

"She had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch," the Headmistress said.

"She was outside the castle this afternoon," Harry said. "I think she could be in trouble; there is no way she wouldn't be here to meet you." He thought for a moment then went into Auror mode. "Ron, take your men and check the Room of Requirement, Dudley come with me to Hagrid's, Pansy, stay here and wait."

Pansy grabbed Dudley's arm. "I'm going too," she declared.

Harry looked at Dudley and saw that there was no fighting it. "Fine, just be careful," he said gravely as he trotted out of the Great Hall. "There is no telling what we'll find there."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I claim no ownership. This chapter is a little shorter because I liked where it ended.

When Harry, Dudley, and Pansy reached Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they found the door open, but Hagrid gone. They went inside and saw no sign of a struggle, note, or any real clues.

"They must be in the Forbidden Forest," Harry said.

"Forbidden Forest? There is a Forbidden Forest here, you're not serious?" Dudley asked.

"Yeah, that is what they call it. It is actually quite dangerous," Pansy responded.

"Loads of people have been hurt there, killed actually," Harry said, thinking about his own experiences.

"Next to a school is a deadly Forbidden Forest? Who thought that was a good idea? I suppose you are going to tell me there is a monster living in the lake?" Dudley looked at the pair like all this was insane.

"Actually yes, loads of dangerous things live in the lake," Harry said.

Dudley shook his head as he looked around the cottage. "Deadly lake, Forbidden Forest where we think Georgia has been taken by a crazy, magical killer?" Dudley said as he reached for a gigantic strung crossbow that hung on a peg above the fireplace. It was huge, but he could muscle it over one shoulder. "This is crazy, but let's go into the freakin' Forbidden Forest to find my kid."

Harry and Pansy stared at the hulking form of Dudley, dressed in nice khaki trousers and a leather jacket, holding Hagrid's giant crossbow, and willing to go into a forest that he was completely naïve about. They looked at each other, shrugged slightly, then led Dudley out of the hut and down the path into the forest.

(Break)

Any remnant of daylight was blocked by the heavy canopy of the forest as Dudley, Harry and Pansy walked along a path that wove between gigantic trees. They were following huge footprints that Harry said belonged to his friend Hagrid. Dudley remembered Hagrid from his childhood and the thought of meeting him again was not something he looked forward to, but having a giant ally in this dark forest would be appreciated.

"Oi, over here!" Harry yelled as he came to the top of an incline.

Dudley scrambled up and saw Harry kneeling at the edge of a clearing beside an enormous, hairy man. Harry was checking Hagrid's pulse and breathing to make sure that he was still alive.

"What happened to him?" Pansy asked as she walked over to Hagrid's other side.

"I don't know, he's unconscious," Harry answered.

"Look there," Dudley said as he pointed a few feet away to an enormous, grey, smooth-skinned branch lying on the ground near Hagrid. "That branch didn't break; see how clean the cut is? I think it was sliced off, fell, and hit him in the head."

"That makes sense. Spells wouldn't be much use against Hagrid," Harry said as he pulled Hagrid's gray mane away from his face. "He seems ok, just knocked out."

As Harry stood up next to Hagrid, Dudley got a terrible feeling. A feeling like something was going to happen. It was the same kind of feeling that he had learned to trust while in Iraq, and he knew to act, not question. In one fluid move, he dropped the huge crossbow that he had been carrying and launched himself at Pansy, propelling the two of them to the ground behind the huge branch that had knocked Hagrid out.

Harry saw Dudley move and tried to dive behind the branch, but the blast caught him before he could get to cover. Dudley felt Harry's skull smack the wood with a sickening thump, and saw him tumble over the top of the giant branch. When Harry crumpled to the ground, Dudley knew he was out cold and would be of no help. Dudley finally looked over the top of the fallen branch when he heard the scream.

"Aagh! You bastard!" Mafalda screamed out from the other side of the clearing.

Dudley saw a woman clutching her leg, in pain. There was something sticking out of her upper thigh, and she was leaning against a tree, struggling to remove it. Next to her, bound and suspended in mid-air was Georgia. Dudley could see his daughter struggling against the ropes, so he knew she was still alive. He looked at the woman again, and it seemed as though she was removing an arrow or something from her leg. _A crossbow bolt_, Dudley thought as he looked over towards the discarded, crossbow he removed from Hagrid's hut. It was empty. Evidently it went off as he dropped it to save Pansy and somehow the bolt hit Mafalda. _A lucky shot._

"_Reparo," _Mafalda shouted frantically as she pointed her wand at her leg.

Dudley assumed she was stopping the blood loss, but didn't have much hope that it would slow her down.

"What should we do now?" Pansy whispered anxiously next to Dudley.

"Stay covered. She's got Georgia, and I don't want her hurt," he paused for a moment. "Can you make some of those branches fall like she did? We could use a distraction. Just don't choose any that are too close to Georgia. I want to try and get behind her or something."

"I'll try," Pansy said as she pointed her wand up and started blasting branches high up in the canopy of trees.

Dudley waited for the first few to fall before he started to run through the trees that outlined the clearing. He thought that the falling giant branches would distract her and allow him to get into the woods. He could then sneak up behind Mafalda and hit her with a stone or something. He didn't count on Mafalda not being concerned about huge falling branches, and her waiting for his sprint out into the open.

"Gotcha!" Mafalda shouted gleefully as Dudley felt himself hoisted up into the air by his ankle.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't own this story, and just write it for fun. In this chapter, I wanted to bring in one of my favorite characters, Bane, for a short cameo. I imagine that Centaurs have very little patience for human nonsense.**

As the giant branches fell around her, Mafalda remained focused on Dudley and Pansy. Potter had been rendered unconscious by the last _Bombardia_, and that half-giant wouldn't be waking up any time soon. When Dudley made a break for the tree line, which she expected, a carefully cast _Levicorpus_ completely incapacitated him, and was a fitting, comical way to capture the stupid Muggle.

It was so easy to lure these idiots into her clutches. Lately everything had been getting easier for Mafalda. She always knew that she was a genius, and magic came so effortlessly to her. She had money and power, and the only thing that remained for her was to remove her arch-nemesis and her stupid _boyfriend_ from the equation.

A movement from the right indicated that Pansy had stopped blasting the giant branches down from the canopy above, and in some sort of fruitless attempt at saving her new beau, was going to try and disable her. Mafalda casually cast _Protego_ as Pansy sent a spell in her direction. The ineffective spell barely caused the hovering Dudley to dip while Mafalda changed her focus.

"Your spells are weak Parkinson!" Mafalda taunted. "I'm going to make you watch me torture your boyfriend before I do the same to you," she cackled.

"What is the matter with you?" Pansy shouted. "You're crazy! You've killed people to make a stupid potion, and then you murdered Draco. You are insane!"

Mafalda screwed up her face at the word insane, and then hurled a hex at Pansy who had bravely poked her head up for a moment. Pansy was hit square in the face and instantly became rigid as magical ropes materialized and wound their way around her. Pansy struggled against the binding, and could neither break free nor utter a word. Dudley, in the meantime, unceremoniously hit the ground as Mafalda's concentration was broken. He landed on his shoulder, and rolled against the pain of a fractured collarbone as he made a dash to tackle Mafalda.

"Not so fast, Muggle," Mafalda said casually as she hoisted him into the air again. "You need to get it into your thick head that you are not, and never will be, a match for me. You are just a Muggle, and in my opinion, all Muggles should bow down to the more superior, magical beings." Mafalda paused for a moment as a sickening smile crossed her flawless face. "Yes, that is a wonderful idea," she said as she made a motion with her wand.

Dudley felt himself invert, and then a force pressed him down into the soft forest floor. In the middle of the clearing, he was forced to kneel down in front of Mafalda. "You are insane," Dudley started. "I don't know what happened to you, but something broke inside of you a long time ago. The potion you've been taking has made you even more insane. What do you hope to accomplish here? The Aurors are going to be looking for us in a moment. There's no way out. You have my daughter for God's sake, let her go." Dudley hoped that some of his police training would work in this situation, but with a crazy, _magical_ killer, there was really no guarantee.

"You've certainly changed your tune from our previous encounter, Chief Inspector," Mafalda said cruelly as she took a few steps closer to Dudley. "Last time we met, after you picked me up in a bar, you were trying to have your way with me," Mafalda laughed to herself as she posed seductively. "Or have you forgotten?"

"You altered my memory," Dudley snarled, trying to pull his arms free of Mafalda's enchantment.

"Of course I did darling, I wanted to kill you and use your heart for one of my famous potions, but you made it outside. I needed to make sure you wouldn't talk."

Mafalda flicked her wrist quickly towards Pansy, and the bound and gagged brunette floated over to join the pair. "Look at her Dudley," Mafalda said, ripping off the gag, making Pansy gasp for breath. "Look at how _pretty _she is. Did you know I was the one that made her that way? She was an ugly pug before I got that idiot Malfoy to slip her one of my first potions. She was my Guinea pig. An ugly, stupid, pureblood that had everything anyone could have wanted; but, boo-hoo, she lost it all in the War." Mafalda walked behind Pansy and forced her head to turn toward Dudley. "She's pathetic, Chief Inspector. She could have started over, like I did, but she was just too lazy and dumb. I made my fortune, had a beautiful home and an endless string of men to please me. I didn't start with all the benefits this bitch did." Mafalda looked at Pansy and then at Dudley again. "I don't know what you see in her, Big D. You could have done so much better."

Mafalda released Pansy's head, and Dudley grew enraged as he saw the tears running down Pansy's cheeks. "You hate her because she's a Pureblood, and you were pulled out of Hogwarts by your non-magical parents. You must have spent your life as an outcast, never fitting in with either group. You are smart, and angry; I get that. But I also know that, Pureblood or not, Pansy's worth a hundred of you. She's also beautiful inside, where you are a monster," Dudley said, looking at Pansy. And he realized, that for the first time, he didn't care whether Pansy knew he was in love with her.

"Oh, you want to compare insides, do you?" Mafalda said as she flicked her wand at Dudley.

A cut; painful, but not deep, appeared on Dudley's chest. He screamed in pain as blood started leaking through his shirt. Both Pansy and Georgia, who was still watching intently from the edge of the clearing, screamed out and tried to break free of their bonds.

"Don't worry ladies," Mafalda laughed. "That's not the one that's going to kill him." She paced in front Dudley and Pansy for a moment. "Big D, you impress me. I've never met a Muggle like you before. You have quite the knack for staying alive. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you have some latent magical talent buried in there somewhere. I like you, I really do. I will be sad to see you die."

"As for your girlfriend," Mafalda continued, "I will _not_ be sad to see her die." She pointed her wand at Pansy, and Pansy let out the loudest, most heart wrenching scream Dudley had ever heard. Her body convulsed as she screamed, and Dudley could almost feel her pain.

While Mafalda was focused cruelly on torturing, Dudley felt the force that held him down weaken slightly, and he pulled. He didn't understand what he pulled against, but he pulled so hard that he felt his shoulders and knees start to tear under the strain. He didn't care, he knew that he had to do something to help Pansy, hearing her screaming like that was killing him. _If I can just get her to focus on me instead_, he thought.

Mafalda noticed Dudley moving slightly and turned her wand on him. He felt the pain of a thousand hot knives burning into his skin, and with some relief, thought that at least Pansy was being spared. His scream seemed distant as he lost focus on where he was. He saw flashes of a room; a room that he didn't remember at first, but then the memories came flooding back. He was in room with Mafalda, after meeting her at a bar. Her home was beautiful, she was beautiful, and then he noticed the Slytherin crest above the bed, the wand, and finally the same feeling of burning knives. The pain of the curse had restored all of his memories.

Mafalda was energized as she turned her wand back on Pansy and the screaming started again. As Dudley regained consciousness, he saw the insane look in Mafalda's eyes as she tortured Pansy. He also saw a slight movement in the tree line behind her. He shook his head, sure that he could not believe what he saw, it had to be impossible.

A man, if you could call him a man, appeared out of the shadows, riding a horse. However,it wasn't a horse, it was connected to the man. He walked out of the shadows and raised a crossbow.

_A Minotaur?_ thought Dudley. _No, a Centaur_. Half man, half horse. He watched as the dark-colored being raised his crossbow, and with no change in expression, fired it at Mafalda.

Mafalda froze as the tip of the crossbow bolt poked out of the front of her black jumper, and her blood poured out. She looked up towards Dudley in utter confusion, and then collapsed on the ground.

The Centaur said, "We shall have no more of that," and then walked back into the forest.

Georgia and Pansy's bonds disappeared as soon as Mafalda died, and Georgia rushed over to her father. Pansy leaned against him weakly, not able to move.

"Dad!" Georgia cried out. "Are you ok?"

Dudley put his arms around his daughter and pulled her to him. "I am now." After a moment, he took an arm and wrapped it around Pansy. "Georgia, I'd like you to meet Pansy. Pansy, this is my daughter."

"Nice to meet you Pansy," Georgia said as she laughed with relief. "Are you two an item?"

Pansy interrupted Dudley to answer weakly, "You better believe it."


End file.
